Part Two

The wait was longer than she'd anticipated.

And though she'd tried as hard as she could, outlasting both Finch and Tillman, the time had come for her eyes to close as well. She'd been vaguely aware of lying down beside him as her eyes started to droop, but something had changed since then.

First of all, her pillow was hard and warm and breathing.

And she was fairly certain there was an arm around her.

The room was dark, lit only by the hotel-supplied nightlights at the electrical outlets and the slightest hint of street lights peeking around the edges of the thick curtains. It took her a moment to remember where she was and who she was with, and even then, what she remembered didn't mesh with the situation. She'd stretched out next to the unconscious man, but apparently she'd moved in her sleep, rolling against his side, throwing her arm over his stomach.

She supposed it was good news that he'd been conscious enough to wrap his arm around her as well.

There was heat radiating from his body in place of the deathly cold that had been there earlier. She looked up, wanting to see his beautiful eyes open and aware, terrified that he'd still be angry. Instead, he was staring back at her, his eyes hooded and tired, but locked on hers. His lips moved, but she reached up, touching her fingers to them.

"Shhh, get some rest." She lowered her fingers, tracing them over his lips and chin, then down his chest. He looked worried, upset, nervous, something. "I'll be here when you wake up. We can talk about it then."

He searched her eyes, the need to tell her something warring with the desire to follow her instructions.

"Sleep, John. You need to get better." She could see it then, in the tear that escaped his eye and rolled down into his hair, that he was truly afraid she wouldn't be there when he woke up. She leaned over, lifting his other arm, indicating the IV that was attached. "It's real, John, I'm here and I'm not leaving."

There were more tears gathering and she hated to see them, but she was glad that he wasn't hiding them. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his shirt. His arm tightened around her as though he questioned her promise to be there when he woke. But eventually it relaxed, his sleep coming just as hers did.

#####

The next time she awoke, it was morning. Daylight was streaming in through the open curtains and the lamps throughout the room were on as well. She'd had a rough week, her emotions running high the whole time, and she hadn't been sleeping well for ages. Apparently even an unconscious John Reese made her feel safe, because she'd slept like a log. Wanting more of the comfort and security, she turned her face into his chest, trying to block out the light and go back to sleep.

But as soon as she found the darkness by pressing her face into his body, her ears perked up, hearing voices, letting her know that not only was she not the only one awake, but that they were well aware of her less-than-professional behavior.

It was John's raspy voice that she heard first, loving the sound of it, the idea that he was awake and talking, before she understood his words. "What the hell is she doing here, Finch?"

For a brief moment, Jos considered how he'd stared at her during the night and decided he had to be talking about Tillman rather than herself. His arm was still wrapped around her, after all, though she was rather mortified that Finch had seen her asleep in John's arms.

Finch's answer, his irritated voice, brought reality crashing down around her. "She found you, Mr. Reese. She's the reason you're alive." He paused, probably looking for a polite way to phrase the rest of his words. "Though I understand you may not be particularly thankful."

"She didn't find me on her own, Finch."

It was then that she realized John couldn't get his arm away from her until she moved.

Which she was far too embarrassed to do just then.

"She found me, Mr. Reese. Quite impressive, I must admit, considering that she didn't use any police resources to do it. We'll have to move our base of operations, or I will, if you're going to continue your sabbatical."

"So you gave me up. Remind me to repay the favor someday." His gruff voice demonstrated his displeasure. But he gave no indication that she was awake, something she was absolutely certain he knew. Perhaps, she decided hopefully, he was just as embarrassed to be caught like that by his boss.

Finch's voice sounded from across the room. "I thought it was in your own best interests. Certainly knowing she was concerned enough to track me down will be of some comfort. Not to mention," he stopped and Jos could just about see the disgust on his face, "that her current location seems to indicate she's not as disinterested as she might have led you to believe last week. Anyway, the room is paid up for the week and there are some clothes in the closet, toiletries in the bathroom if you'd like to make use of the shower at some point. I have some work to do, but you know how to reach me if you need me. I expect you know to follow Tillman's instructions or face Detective Carter's wrath."

"Yes, dad." He was quiet for a moment, waiting until the door opened and closed. "You can get up now, Carter, he's gone."

Somehow, despite the circumstances, despite how intimate they'd been, or perhaps of how intimate they'd been, it was just as difficult, if not more so, to face John. She'd been ready to yell at him the day before when she'd gone looking for him, but after spending the night asleep in his arms, her defenses were gone. She took a deep breath, unsure of what she was going to say. Should she scream at him for his carelessness? Or beg him to be more careful? Tell him that she'd realized what a mistake trying to leave him had been?

His hand moved from her back, his fingers combing through her hair. "Or you can stay."

Oh, thank god, she thought. His apparent lack of enthusiasm at her presence had been for Finch's benefit.

She sat up, determined to face the music. It was hard to look at him, hard to let anyone, even John, see her vulnerability. He needed to see it, though, she reminded herself. He needed to know she cared. The John Reese everyone knew was a front; she knew the man behind it was just as vulnerable as she was. Folding her legs, she sat next to him on the bed, allowing a bit of contact between them where her knee touched his side. It was up to him if he didn't want it.

Then she met his eyes, steeling herself for whatever she might find. She needn't have worried, though, because there was only warmth reflected there. So she let herself smile, celebrating that he was ok. "I'd love to stay, John, but we need to talk."

He stared at her for a long time, his eyes trying to find some unspoken answer in hers. When he looked away, it seemed his whole body had deflated. "There really isn't anything to say."

"There's plenty." She folded her arms over her chest and prepared to fight. Their relationship, his life, both were worth fighting for even if he didn't seem to know.

"You didn't want to discuss it when you left. You just did and I was supposed to accept that. So what's there to talk about now?" He was staring anywhere but at her and it bugged her. John never said much with his words, he communicated with his eyes, which made it impossible to talk to him when he wouldn't look at her.

"Just out of curiosity, were you trying to kill yourself or was it an accident?"

He shrugged one shoulder, shifting his body around suddenly after having been very still for a very long time. He was uncomfortable with the topic. Good. Now he knew how she felt.

"Because if you were trying, congratulations, you damn near succeeded. Next time, use a gun, there's less chance of intervention that way." She grabbed his chin and pulled him to face her. "Would you have wanted to find me like that?"

"That would never happen to you." His eyes darted to hers, but only for a moment. "You have too much to-"

She waited for him to finish the sentence and when he didn't, she objected anyway. "So do you."

He scoffed, apparently ignorant of how much trouble she and Finch had gone to in order to keep him alive. "I'm sure you have somewhere to be, Carter. I'm stuck here for a while." He was looking at the IV still taped to his arm, which she knew full well wouldn't stop him if he actually wanted to leave.

"I want to know if you meant it, John, or if it was just an accident." She shook her head, unable to stand the thought that he'd really been trying to kill himself, yet knowing that having the question alone meant he was in a hell of a lot more pain than he ever let on. "I swear, John, you lie to me right now, I will hurt you."

His eyes moved to hers, their cold blue color giving her a glimpse of what he meant to say. She'd already hurt him plenty. There was nothing she could do worse than she'd already done.

And then it was her turn to let the tears fall. She didn't fight them. He needed to see how much she was hurting too, how much he mattered to her.

His hand moved, falling on her leg, squeezing gently. "Jos, don't-"

"You tried to kill yourself because of something I did, I'm allowed to be upset."

He winced, but maintained eye contact. "I wasn't so much trying to kill myself so much as I didn't care either way."

"How could you be so careless? Do you have any idea how it felt to walk into that room and find you blue and cold?" She stopped to wipe at her tears. "Jesus, John, don't you ever do that to me again."

He withdrew his hand, his eyes avoiding hers again. "I'm sorry. I had no intention of..." His eyes moved back to hers. "I didn't know you'd find me. I really didn't expect you to come looking for me." He didn't need to add that he didn't think she cared. She already knew that was what he meant.

"I didn't want you to get hurt, John, that's why I tried to quit. I didn't want to lead Snow to you. Why would I try to protect you if I didn't care?" She'd thought he'd known somehow how she felt, but she realized now that would have been impossible. She certainly didn't know how he felt about her, hadn't thought he cared at all until she saw what her actions had done to him. He'd never hurt her like that, he'd never betrayed her, he'd never had the painful opportunity to realize what he meant to her, so how the hell would he know she had fallen in love with him if she didn't tell him?

"You were protecting Taylor, not me. I understand completely that you want to keep him safe, but please don't pretend it was about me."

"It was for both of you. Taylor being followed was the last straw, but I thought it was the safest thing for everyone. Snow is all over me and I don't know how to keep working with you without getting you killed and myself arrested." She reached out, taking his hand and holding it in both of hers. "But not being with you doesn't really seem to be working out for either of us."

He didn't say anything, but his eyes shifted to hers suddenly, light and clear for the first time in a long time when he looked at her. One side of his mouth curled in a smirk. "I definitely prefer waking up to you rather than a bottle of whiskey."

She shook her head, a familiar feeling of affection and annoyance taking over her. "You touch a damn bottle again, John, and I will hit you over the head with it."

"Noted." He moved his hand back to rest on her knee again.

"Like I said, I don't know how to do this without getting in trouble, but-"

"Don't." His hand squeezed her knee. "I'm sorry I scared you, Jos, but please don't think it was to force your hand."

She shook her head, reaching out to lay her hand atop his. "I made a mistake, John. A huge mistake. I don't know how to make this work, I admit it, but I trust you. You said you can protect me and Taylor." She shifted closer, her hand moving to his chest. "So you can't be doing anything crazy and stupid like this anymore, not if you're responsible for us."

He stared at her, his expression carefully blank, his eyes searching her face for any indication of a double meaning. Slowly, finally, a wide smile started to work its way across his face, eventually lighting his eyes in a way Jos had never seen. His hand covered hers, squeezing it before his fingers threaded through hers. "Really?"

She nodded, her own smile answering his. "Really."

He ginned at her for a long time before he nodded toward the other room. "I'm just going to take a quick shower and," he glanced at his worse-for-wear suit, "change. Give me a minute?"

"Is that a good idea?" Her eyes fell on the IV line still attached. "Shouldn't you rest for a while?"

"I don't need to rest." He made quick work of the line, yanking it out and applying the bandage that Tillman had left for him. "I feel better than I ever have."

She knew he wasn't kidding when he got up a moment later, surprisingly agile for a man who'd been almost deathly intoxicated a few hours beforehand. Of course, judging from the way he looked back and smiled at her before he ducked into the bathroom, she suspected that his emotional state made up for any physical deficits he might be experiencing.

Though she'd only gotten to see it once, and only for a minute, she liked seeing him happy. She liked being the reason he was happy. She liked that she was sitting on the bed they'd shared, even chastely, with a stupid grin on her face.

She knew continuing to work with him would be dangerous. She knew the stakes were as high as ever. But she knew he was a man of his word and he would do everything in his power to protect her and her son. As she thought about it, she realized trusting John with her safety was less of a risk than crossing the street. He'd die before he let anyone hurt her or Taylor.

#####

Apparently a little bit of encouragement was all the man needed. He was showered and shaved when he returned to the bed, his minty-fresh breath making her worry about her lack of a toothbrush. But he didn't seem to mind, or even notice, as he joined her, giving her no warning whatsoever when he reached over to cup the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss.

She wanted to laugh at his confidence level, considering the depths to which it had sunk when he thought she didn't want him, but hell, she could hardly blame him for being encouraged by the fact that she'd just put her life, and her son's, in his hands. That had to be a hell of a confidence boost. Of course, her desire to laugh, as well as her ability to form a coherent thought, quickly disappeared.

When he pulled back, his eyes held hers, an almost shy smile lighting his face. "Sorry, I've just wanted to do that for a long time. Wasn't sure you'd let me."

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him. Had he had so much to drink that he'd actually forgotten what happened? She averted her eyes for a moment, unsure how the hell she'd ever find the words to tell him.

He shrugged and ducked his head. "You know, after what I did."

"You didn't do anything I didn't agree to." As much as she wished he'd had to at least twist her arm, he hadn't. She'd wanted him so badly she would have done anything he suggested.

He shook his head. "No one argues with me when I'm that angry."

Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, her fingers sliding along his chin, and she reveled in having the freedom to touch him, to see his eyes close in response to her touch. "I'm not afraid of you, even when you're angry." When his eyes darted up to her, his face incredulous, she continued. "You wouldn't hurt me. Besides," her hand moved back to his and curled around it, "you weren't angry. You were hurt."

"It doesn't matter how I felt. I never should have touched you like that." He seemed to be folding in on himself before her eyes, his confidence receding as quickly as it had reappeared.

"Maybe you don't remember, John, but you asked my permission." Realizing that she needed to distract him from his guilt trip or risk losing him again, she was filled with purpose. She sat up on her knees, moving to straddle him, depositing herself unceremoniously in his lap, successfully earning his full attention. "You asked my permission and you got it. Do you hear me?"

He stared up at her, shock and desire warring in his eyes. "I thought I might have coerced that out of you."

She nodded, pretending to consider his words as she lightly dragged her nails down his chest. Then she leaned in, sliding her hands back up to spread his open collar, pressing her lips to the exposed skin of his throat. Her mouth moved to his ear, her voice a purr as she whispered. "Am I coercing you now?"

She felt his chuckle in the breath he released against her cheek, then the rumble in his chest as he answered. "Yes, detective, I believe you are."

She laughed too, moving her hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks. "Are you going to be mad about it?"

"No, I don't see that happening." His hands were on her hips, touching, exploring, teasing her skin with gentle brushes of the pads of his fingers on her skin.

"Well, then, shut the fuck up about you having coerced me, ok?"

"Yeah, ok." He kissed her again, his lips pressing against hers possessively.

She would have liked to stay there forever, exploring his body, letting him do the same, giving into the almost unbearable desire to touch him, but she had to draw the line. She hated having to stop, feared that by doing so she would make him nervous about her having changed her mind. Still, it had to be done.

Reluctantly sitting back, she broke the kiss and waited a beat to catch her breath. "John, wait."

His eyes immediately widened, his hands falling away from her. "What?"

With a smirk, she grabbed his hands and replaced them on her legs. "I'm tempted, very, very tempted," pausing to prove her point, she leaned forward and kissed his lips. "But we kind of jumped into this the first time, so I think we should slow down." It took everything she had to tamp down on her desire to ignore her own words and shift off his lap, but she managed it, snuggling into his side and throwing her arm around him. "Besides, you weren't in great shape last night. I'd hate to wear you out so soon."

"But what a way to go." He was grinning as he nuzzled her neck.

She pulled back, taking in the smile as she mirrored it. "I like seeing you smile," she said, finally giving voice to the thought she'd had earlier. Dragging her nails over his chest, she fought back the urge to climb back on top of him. "I like making you smile."

He continued to smile at her, his eyes searching hers as always. "You are pretty good at it."

"I seem to be pretty good at making you cry, too." Her expression turned deathly serious. "Promise me you won't ever do anything this stupid again, John."

He nodded, his eyes darting away from hers, embarrassment and guilt warring for position on his face.

Sitting up and gripping his chin, she forced him to face her. "Promise."

His eyes held hers for a long time before he nodded again. "I promise."

"Ok, good, that's settled." With an irrepressible grin once again lighting her face, she settled back down against his side. "So what do you want to do today?"

"Absolutely nothing." He tightened his arm around her, assuring her that her presence was required.

"I can do that." Her fingers traced over his shirt, sliding in between the buttons to caress his bare skin. "Maybe." She hadn't felt so incredibly content in a long time. Someday she was going to tell him how good he was for her. Until then, she'd settle for being good for him.

~end~