TRY
A Carter/Reese Story
By shoetingstar
A short story about Reese and Carter from Carter's POV (w/some Finch appearances!).
I wrote this as a thank you for the super awesome magicb0x who has a great POI tumblr and makes amazing gifsets. Her prompt was to write something about "right after John have saved Taylor? Something Carter POV." The title and bits of the theme was inspired by the song Try by P!nk (below). There are references to Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice (below). I'm coming off a horrible, evil case of writer's block so this took longer than it should. But I hope you enjoy it magicb0x!
PANIC ROOM"THIS. Can NOT be happening!" Carter said in growing frustration and disbelief.
"I did warn you," Reese said.
"I thought you were exaggerating," Carter replied. "I thought you meant the old lady was just senile – not homicidal!"
"Poison – old fashioned and still quite effective," he explained while punching numbers combinations on the keypad. "Long-standing member of an anti-Nazi group. Noble cause, however, their targets include the families of the Nazi member…"
Her eyes tried to uncover every inch of the locked, window-less space, leading her to understand why it was called a panic room. Cellphones were even useless, the signals blocked. The small room didn't volunteer any helpful clues and they found themselves returning to the elaborate security system near the entrance.
John was cool as the North Pole, as usual. However, his appearance was not his usual. The signature suit was MIA, replaced by the uniform of crisp blue medical scrubs. Nurse Reese, or rather, his cover Nurse John Randall, had been on-call to attend to Mrs. Norange, their latest Person of Interest.
"Old Grandma – pretty hardcore," Carter said, only slightly amused. "Taylor's play is tonight. Thank God I don't have to drive him but I would like to see my only child's stage debut."
Unfortunately, John couldn't offer Carter any promises of making the play on time.
"I lost Finch. We may be here a while."
TEN SESSIONS"Do you believe in God?"
His voice was the calm, neutral tone Carter expected from a therapist. It communicated that he wasn't overly invested in her giving one particular response. It was an exploration, a mental archaeological dig to uncover what lies beneath. Instead of a mysterious, far-off location, the site was within the quiet walls of Dr. Dennis Hudson's home office. He sat across from her, only a mahogany coffee table between their chairs. It was the third week of what had been a chess match of sorts.
"Of course, I believe in God. I have faith. I wouldn't be alive if I didn't."
She grew up in church – her parents made sure of that. She prayed and thanked God each day. Right now, she was just anxious to get back to her job. According to her pain in the ass boss, Captain Womack, the job was the reason she was required to attend these tedious therapy sessions. Specifically, he was referring to the recent events she'd rather not discuss. She disagreed but was strongly advised to cooperate. Ten sessions, one hour a week was doable, almost like a long coffee break. It was a lunch break really, she told herself. It was just a lunch-slash-coffee break with her new, highly attentive friend, Dr. Hudson. However, the reality was yielding something more complex than she had imagined.
Hudson casually scratched his trim ginger beard and recorded more notes.
Who knew I was so interesting, she thought.
"You are used to being on this side," Hudson said. "…Asking the interrogation questions. Being the one in control."
"You get a lot of cops in this chair?"
"I have an arrangement with your precinct. I'm familiar with the particular needs and struggles of a law enforcement officer."
"With all due respect, this is frankly a waste of my time and definitely not voluntary on my part," she explained.
"Sure. What is a better use of your time?"
"I have cases on my desk that need to be solved…Murderers that need to be caught. How is this helping me do that?"
She looked at clock on Hudson's desk. They still had forty-five minutes to burn.
"Tell me about your most pressing case."
She let out a tedious breath. "They're all priorities as far as I'm concerned," she challenged. He nodded in understanding and she softened a bit. "Let's see…I got a kid two weeks from his 16th birthday. He's riding in a car with two friends, car pulls up behind them and shoots out the car. He's shot multiple times. They pulled him from the car and bleeds to death in the streets. Everyone says he's a good kid. Good family. He wasn't in a gang or any trouble. As usual, no one will talk."
"That has to be frustrating. You're only trying to do your job."
Carter shrugged it off. "That's how my day goes. Nothing comes easy. I've learned that many times."
"His family must be devastated. Their child is gone. All their hopes for their son, or brother or grandson and his future – it's all gone."
Joss was familiar with the scenario. And only days ago…If things had gone differently, she would be going through it again now. A new fresh grave would have been dug alongside the aged one she still couldn't leave behind.
But he is here. You still have him.
"That's why I have to find out who did it. For the families."
"Who looks out for your family?"
"I do."
"With your permission I spoke to your boss and colleagues. He had nothing but praise for you. You have an outstanding record. His concern was about recent events."
"Events I wouldn't have burdened him with," she said, softly defiant, "…But my co-worker took that option away."
Hudson looked at his notes. "There was a…Fusco? And a Szymanski? He in particular expressed great concerned."
"Fusco is my partner. Szymanski - Well, I'm not sure if he felt concern or wanted to get back at me for nearly getting him killed."
"Was that the situation with the tall man, with dark hair?" Hudson said.
Well, he certainly took thorough notes.
"He was confused. He lost a lot of blood and nearly died."
"Was he the same man who helped you when you were shot?" Hudson ignored her effort at a re-direct.
"I didn't see his face," she explained, surprised but remaining calm.
"Let me be frank with you," Hudson said. "We can sit here, talking in circles for an hour if that's what you want. Or you can let me help you with the traumatic events that you experienced. You are the one in control here."
Just as the words left his lips Joss thought of Finch and Reese. They probably were listening to her at this very moment.
NO LONGER NINEAll moms have a look that instantly communicates: I am NOT amused and you better correct yourself. Joss was giving her son that look just now.
"You'll have to wait and see," Taylor said. He was a picture of serenity in the midst of the restaurant on a busy morning.
He sat across the booth from her grinning triumphantly. She hated surprises and he was enjoying her unease a little too much. She had really had enough of the men in her life not giving her information.
The men in her life? Men? Plural?
No. There was just Taylor…
And John…
And Finch…
And now even Fusco…Hmmm….She'd have to get used to that idea.
"Okay. But I am trusting you," she said. She held back interrogating him. He always bristled when he felt she was being Cop-Mom instead of just Mom.
He was suddenly fascinated by his eggs, not looking her in the eye.
"So, how's John?"
"He is fine, for now," she said, trying with effort to keep her voice neutral. "He had a run-in with the hospital emergency room a few days ago."
Since John had rescued him from Elias' men, Taylor had lots of questions. Exactly how much should she tell him? She liked to keep her work to herself, her way of protecting Taylor from the brutality of her profession. And John wasn't exactly an easy topic for her to approach.
"You want to go over your lines?" She said quickly, grabbing his copy of the community theatre script. The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare was typed on the front in bold font. Taylor got a part in a teenaged adaption of the play.
Taylor wasn't swayed by her stalling tactic. He was uncharacteristically talkative this morning.
"I know my lines. Don't worry. So, he's a cop too?"
She laughed. John a cop! Enforcing the law was definitely not John's strong suit. She could easily see him in a cop's uniform; the dark blue would look good on him. She tried to check the sudden burst of affection that arrested her when she thought of him.
Don't even go there.
There is no "there" to go to…
His face when she showed up at the hospital! It communicated complete shock, relief, and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. She kept returning to it, trying to figure what that "something else" might have been, not daring to ask herself why she was doing it, or why it was worth this amount of her attention.
He did save her son's life. As if saving her life and gunning down the person that had shot her wasn't enough. No, fate, or life, added the person she loved more than her own life to the "I Owe You, John" List. Her Angel of Death had become a Guardian Angel. It was reasonable to have some feelings for him. She was just feeling gratitude. That was it. It was nothing to be alarmed about.
"I have questions and there's nothing wrong with that," Taylor asserted.
"You're right. Well, John…helps people. I don't like lying to you. But unfortunately sweetheart, there's a lot I really can't share with you."
"Hmmm…I get it." He nodded. "He's some kind of spy? Undercover agent?"
"He's some kind of something," Joss offered.
"Mom, I'm not 9-years-old anymore. You know what I mean, right?"
She did. What he was actually saying had significance for them both. She could only nod as conflicting emotions struck her.
"We should have him over for dinner."
This was just getting better and better…
"I barely make dinner for you," She reminded him.
"True. But when you do it's great," he said sincerely.
"Boy, what am I going to do with you?"
Taylor only smiled. As much as she wanted to resist, he knew he would get his way this time.
MORE PANIC"There's no use," Joss said and sat on the floor of the panic room and rested against the wall. "Come on, sit down." She tapped the empty space next to her.
John immediately dropped down beside her, to her surprise.
"You didn't eat any food in her house, did you?"
"No."
"Good. Don't need to have you dying on me."
He looked at her in surprise, like the fact she didn't want him to die was revolutionary. She knew he was thinking about their history. Not too long ago she used her best efforts to try to get him behind bars.
"Look how far we've come, Carter. You're kidnapping mob bosses. And I'm…"
"Leaving your old profession to become a nurse," Joss joked.
"Don't be sexist, Carter," John softly protested. "It's a very noble profession for a man or a woman."
Honestly, he looked quite fetching. The azure blue was brilliant against his dark and gray hair and made his eyes a deeper blue.
"You do have a habit of saving lives, and being at the right place, at the right time."
She never would have guessed that he would have turned out so helpful or that he could care at such depths and touch her own life so intimately.
They both were quiet, reflecting.
"I just can't thank you enough," Carter began. She turned to face him. "You have no idea…"
"This is not necessary," John protested as if she was reprimanding him instead of trying to show him her deep gratitude.
"Yes it is."
She brought her hand to his arm as she felt the compulsion to make contact, to touch him. Only later would she be able to acknowledge the growing connection they had shared. His muscles were tense, warm beneath the cool sleeve fabric, beneath her fingertips.
"Thank you. Thank you for bringing my son back. For bringing my baby back to me. I have a play to look forward to, instead of funeral and a lifetime of…misery. Thank you. And I will be thanking you untiI I can't anymore. And even then I'll haunt you from beyond. So get used to it. You're kind of stuck with me," she teased.
"As you wish, but I think I'm getting the better part of that deal."
NIGHTY RITUALShe hadn't planned on being a single mom. She wished more power and best wishes to the women who did, but she'd always had a different plan. Taylor's father had been everything she had wanted, but somehow greater. The levels of trust and intimacy she hadn't previously realized were real. She thought all that soulmate nonsense was…well, nonsense. But he had changed her mind.
Then like the blowing out of a candle – life was gone. He was gone and darkness had taken his place.
"Every night, in the last couple of weeks, I found myself there,' she was explaining to Dr. Hudson. She hadn't done the ritual since Taylor was a kid. "I just sit stone-still on the edge of his bed, in the dark, and I watch him. I marvel at the simple miracle of him breathing," her eyes burned with the start of fresh tears. "It's my ritual. He is alive, and at home. No one would guess that he almost died."
"Who took him?"
"The most powerful mob boss in the city. Killing Taylor would have been just another item on his to-do list. It's was business as usual for him."
The look of relief and disbelief on Taylor's face when John returned him would never leave her. The expression on John's face, also, would rise up to the surface, refusing to be forgotten. A fresh batch of anger came to sooth away the tears. Eventually, that was only quenched by the equally warm, acute feeling of simple gratitude.
All the people they had helped must have felt this way. The doubts she had about John was significantly diminished. His lack of respect for the law would be difficult to handle and she didn't see him changing that overnight. However, he was a good man where it counted.
"How did you get him back? It really is a miracle."
"I didn't do it alone. I can tell you that much."
(TO BE CONTINUED…)**Disclaimer: Regarding characters related to the television show Person of Interest. I DO NOT OWN PERSON OF INTEREST or its characters. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and with the creative affection of a fan. No profit was made from this work. No copyright infringement intended.
©2013 This is an original work of Shoetingstar (this author's pen name). All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author. All such requests should be emailed to Shoetingstar through this site.