An: A one-shot, don't know if it even makes sense or not, but I was inspired by this beautiful poem and Taraji and Jim's expressive faces. I also would like to thank the brilliant ladies at Person of Interest Forum for all the support they provide, along with brilliant insight. Please review, they're like food for a writer's soul!

P.S. I'm currently working on Aubade again, I should have the next chapter up soon! A revised edition is also being uploaded. If anyone is interested in beta reading for me, please let me know. Thanks!

"Anything and everything
the two almost the same-
everything says: have it all;
anything: one to claim.

If I say I'd give you everything,
we know it can never be,
but I will give you anything-
I just hope that thing is me."

"Edgar's Gift" – By Lang Leav

Anything and Everything

She took a deep breath once she stepped out in to the cool air, it was late afternoon the sun was trying it's best to peak through the heavy clouds but it was failing miserably. She tried not to think about the smell that surrounded her, or the fatigue making her bones ache. Looking down at Bear who waited obediently for her next move, she noticed the state of her boots and pant legs. She felt like someone had a choke hold on her, but she knew it was the effect of her trying her best to hold in her tears and the tsunami of emotions that threaten to wash everything in it's path away.

"Come on Bear let's get you back to the bat cave, where ever that is." She mumbled. He followed her with ease, she opened the back door of her car and he jumped in happily. She almost chuckled that it was probably a decent night for him over all. She couldn't say the same for herself.

There were times she remembered when she felt the world closing in on her. When she was in service and faced terrible things everyday not only with enemy combatants but her own people, even when her marriage deteriorated from James' PTSD and eventually his passing, she didn't feel as weak as she did this very moment. She looked at herself in the review mirror, bag under her eyes, unspilled tears still waiting to spill once her mind would allow it, her skin looked shallow, she could see the dirt sticking to the side of her neck.

Digging up a dead body to cover for her dirty partner isn't something she ever thought she'd have to do. But lately her life seem to include a lot of things she didn't think she'd ever do. She never pictured herself joining a vigilante cause, she never saw herself stealing DNA to alter evidence, or lying to the feds, breaking countless laws she swore to uphold. But John Reese had a way of making you do things that you'd never other wise allow yourself to do, like letting that wall down in hopes that when he said you weren't alone, that he was telling the truth. He had a way of instilling hope and you followed blindly because he has a hold over you.

She bit her lip as she thought back to all the times that John had come through for her. The man she spoke to on the phone earlier wasn't the same one who knelt by her side to tell her that she wasn't alone. She pushed on the gas a little harder, damn John, and Fusco for putting her in a position they should know better to put her in. Did they not respect her?! Was she a joke?

'Aren't you?' her mind spoke back, 'after all you did to set John free are you not a hypocrite?'

The battle within her raged on, there was the by the book Carter pointing her finger at her, then there was the Carter that broke laws and aided the vigilante in a suit. There was detective Carter then there was Jocelyn Carter. She'd be lying if she said that there weren't two parts of her.

II

Finch watched John's face after he'd told him about what the detective had done. How she requested that he do something for her, how she asked for a map of disturbed earth and Bear. He knew from when the detective's number came up how passionate John was about protecting her. Finch saw the way John always made sure she was safe, the way there was a glint in his eyes when she was near. He didn't tell John how broken she looked and sounded when he met her to hand over Bear along with the map and a list of commends in dutch.

He knew that his companion was suffering from something, his distance alerted Finch from day one and he chalked it up as PTSD from the ordeal, but as weeks passed he realized that it was more than that. It was how John deliberately avoided detective Carter, how even when he said he'd call her, he'd call Fusco instead. It was the way he seem to be lost in thought when he sat in one of the chair in the library. When he disclosed all that the detective did for John to be released something closed off in him.

"I told the detective that I would go pick up Bear," he started, watching John's reaction as he slowly pushed his glasses up on his nose. "John."

John turned to face him, the emotions that he saw just moments ago tucked away haphazardly in some corner space in his mind, Finch supposed. Finch found himself frowning at that but tried to ease his friend by saying, "what's done is done, we can only move forward. That is the only option."

"I'll go get Bear. Text me the meeting place." With that John was walking down the stairs.

Finch took a deep breath before releasing it, this will not go well. But he couldn't help but think that he needed John to deal with his issues before the inevitable system failure of the machine occurred. They all needed to be on top of their game for when that clock ran out.

II

The text from Finch read that they would meet by the secluded creek in the woodland of the Ramble in Central park. It was deep within a the Ramble past the bow bridge with a very small creek running calmly through under a make shift bridge. During the day a few joggers passed it, but this late into the evening most avoided places like this one. Opposite the creek was the lake that faced the west side. He stood looking at the building with their eerie glow that peaked through the tree branches, under the cloudy sky.

He remembered the first time they'd met here, it was early fall and the leaves were just changing. He remembered her smiling as the sunlight hit her face, and leaves fell leisurely around her. It was romantic, and beautiful. If they weren't who they were, he would've kissed her that day. But they weren't like everyone else and days like those seem like a distant memory-almost as if they were a figment of his imagination. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of foot steps.

He watched as she gripped the leash tighter, her eyes trying their best to be strong and defiant. But he saw her, it seems as if he couldn't stop seeing her ever since she told Donnelley that she helped him because he was a good man. He almost scoffed at the replay in his head, if he were truly a good man he would've told her all that he did wrong, what he'd just done. He would've been able to tell her that it was he who killed Stills and not Fusco. Instead he let his frustrations about her not seeing the real him out on her.

"John." Her voice which usually held a note of amusement laced with annoyance seemed cold and tired just as she looked.

"Detective." He found himself say almost out of habit, but usually that followed with some witty remark that would have her calling him a smart ass as she tried to reserve her smile. A smile he hasn't seen in a while, a smile he missed.

She made no attempt to move towards him to hand him the leash, instead she got down on her knees, her muddy pant legs getting just a little more dirt on them, she leaned her head against Bear's and scratched his ears, "thank you for all your help. Dank," she said softly before she dropped the leash, "gaan!" Raising to her feet as Bear walked the sort distance to John. "Please tell Harold thank you for lending him to me, couldn't have done it without either of them."

That stung, there was no thanks for him in that comment, no mention of him. Why would there be, he didn't deserve it, he abandoned her when she needed him. He broke his promise to her. She spoke as if she was talking to a stranger, and again he knew he deserved it but it didn't make it any easier to accept.

"I couldn't be there, I was wrapping up a number." He said almost weakly, needing to explain himself, knowing full well that he couldn't say anything to ease her mind or his own of the guilt they felt.

"I know, hope it went well." She said about to turn away from him, when he spoke.

"It didn't. He didn't make it." 'I just killed the man who was responsible' was what he couldn't tell her.

She stopped, her body angled away from him still in preparation to walk away. He should've just let her do that, but he couldn't. He never could with Carter. He said he wanted her to stop chasing him, but the truth was, he made it easy for her to chase him, he waned her to. He constantly lingered around her. It was his fault that she was now standing covered in dirt both literal and metaphorical.

"Yeah, that seems to be happening a lot lately." She finally said.

He heard the question lingering in that statement, but he knew she couldn't ask not until she had some time to rest and sort through it all and decide whether this cause is worth it anymore. A part of him wanted her to walk away, another, a bigger part wanted her here with him. And he felt guilty for wanting her.

"Are you okay?"

Her incredulous face said it all if not all the defeat and exhaustion but he asked to show her he did care. But timing was everything and he was late in asking her.

"How do I look John?"

"I'm sorry." the words left his mouth before he even realize, seeing her so defeated affected him in a completely different way from which he imagined. He didn't even know which 'sorry' this was. He has so much to apologize for.

She turned so fast to look at him, her eyes flaming with tears that wanted to spill from anguish and sadness, "what did you say?"

"Joss..."

II

"Joss..."

Her name was a chant he only allowed himself when he was alone. When he couldn't help himself in the shower, when he woke from a dream where she was naked on top of him with the light of the city casting a glow over her beautiful skin. The first time it happened he didn't know to react to it. He chalked it up as his body's respond to an attractive woman. But when the dreams became a nightly event, he knew she has gotten past the walls of his fortress.

After years of nightmares he welcomes the dreams, he welcomes the release he found as he pictured her in the throes of passion, his head pressed against the wet cool tile of the shower. After a while it was another form of pain he inflicted on himself, because he knew he could never kisser, or hold her, or make love to her the way he dreamt. Because pretending got them far, pretending they weren't more is what kept him from ruining things. It was professional not personal between them.

The banter was some release, but then that wasn't enough anymore. He found himself wanting more. Wanting to call her 'Joss,' wanting to touch her, wanting to be near her and take in her scent. Talk to her about things that mattered and things that didn't. His nonchalant act towards her dating Beecher took effort, but he was every bit honest when he'd told her he'd take care of the narc detective if he hurt her. He let any hope of her looking at him as anything more than John go, but those hours in the interrogation room with her reawakened the hope.

Her smile, her concern, her empathy all moved him even before that moment, but at that moment he realized that he was in love with Jocelyn Carter. That all those weeks ago when she'd asked if he was ready to move on, he already had. With her in that room, he didn't feel like a prisoner-rather he felt set free after years of holding onto Jessica. He told her the truth, altered, but the truth. When he found her on that bridge his heart swelled and broke when Donnelley cuffed her.

While she explained in her calm tone that she was helping a friend, that she thought him to be a good man, he couldn't help feel both redeemed and broken all at once. She'd find out eventually what kind of a man he really was, she'd eventually be disappointed when reality set in that her world was about to end all because of him. Yet she remained calm, even when Kara had crashed the truck into their car, she called his name to make sure he was alright.

He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her.

After all that he's done, and after being brutally reminded by Kara of his past, of how Carter could be caught in the middle of his nightmares he couldn't bring himself to face her. Yet he couldn't forget the look on her face. If he ever had an opportunity to tell her that while he was walking to his death, he'd been a happy man because of her, because in those moments when she focused on nothing but him, forgot about the world beyond them, he saw love in her eyes. She loved him. And that was more than he could've asked for. It was more than he deserved.

It occurred to him later just how lucky he truly was to have her, Finch, and Fusco in his life. How truly blessed he was to have been given a second chance. To have friends who loved him, a woman who would jump of the ledge for him.

And it scared him more than anything he's ever seen. It scared him that he might lose it all if he wanted it all. If he asked for what was in front of him, it'd be taken away.

He hadn't realized until tonight that he was his own bane, that while he was afraid of losing them-it was he who was pushing them away. He would be the reason they walked away from. It wasn't until she she told him that she needed him that he realized that he truly needed her too. He was better with her.

Better than he's ever been really.

II

"Joss..."

How many times has she dreamt of him calling her name? But never did she imagine that hearing him call her name would break her resolve about something as important as her loss of character. She didn't realize that her name on his lips would be what brings down the dam, she didn't realize how much she needed him to call her name.

She expected him to be distant for a few days, she expected him to take time to process what happened. She expected him to run from her for a little while. But when days turned to weeks and then months, she knew that he wasn't just running from her. He was purging her. He didn't want her. She'd fooled herself into thinking that he had. So she tried to hide as well by telling Beecher she was ready to move the relationship to the next level.

She'd done that man so much wrong. She couldn't trust him when she blindly trusted John. When had she stopped asking John questions, when had she just accepted what he and Finch did as the norm? She was compromised and it tore her apart. By the time Szymanski and Cal had died, she was too exhausted to properly mourn, she was too busy mourning John. She was always too busy with John. She didn't know when he crept into her, but she couldn't get rid of him. Even when she tried to be angry, she couldn't get rid of how she felt.

She was angry with Fusco, but she also saw the potential. She knew he'd fallen with he wrong crowd like a teenager. He was looking for approval, he'd had her back from the time he got assigned her partner, even when she didn't fully trust him. He stood at her side like a real partner. He was redeem himself everyday he did something good, he was trying to be a good father to his son. How could she not be a partner to him? Funny how that is a higher commitment than the law sometimes. But she really she did it because just like John-Fusco deserved a second chance.

She hadn't wanted John to take care of things for her, she didn't expect him to go dig up Stills' body for her. What she needed at that moment was someone who could talk her through what she already knew she was going to do. What she did for people she cared for. Risk it all for the greater good. But John wasn't there, not her John anyway.

She thought he'd come back to her once they healed, but she knew she was asking too much. She knew that even after the wounds healed there would be scars left as a reminder. She had her own to prove it. So she held on to the anger instead.

II

"Joss..."

She slapped him so hard she felt the burn on her palm, her breathing accelerated, and her hands balled into fists at her sides immediately after. She didn't want to think about how warm his skin felt under her touch. She was surprised that Bear didn't just jump her for the violence against his master, but the dog seemed to linger a few feet away almost uncaring. Smart dog, he didn't want to be involved. She could barely look at John as he slowly touched where he was assaulted.

Yet her name fell from his lips again, "Joss..."

"No!" she shook her head, her hands still fisted. "No, you don't get to do that. I get it John me and Fusco we're just assets, we're not your concern beyond what you need from us. We're not your friends that you'd care about us. I understand, believe me I do." She couldn't look at him, "but if you say you have my back, I expect you to have it!"

She waited a beat, "I can take care of myself, I've been doing it way before you ever decided to show up..."

He saw her breaking, saw her falling apart. He stepped towards her, but she stepped away with her hands up in between them shaking her head, she didn't care anymore if the tears were falling. She'd reached the point where she couldn't hold them back anymore. "You left me alone...when I needed you!"

She felt the rage fill her again, she went in for a second round, but he was quicker this time. Grabbing her right in his left, the other going to hold her left hand behind her back as he pulled her against him. He looked down at her, her eyes reflected so much pain yet there was confusion marred with surprise, and longing. She was beautiful even in tragedy.

His mouth came crashing down on hers. Releasing the hand behind her back, his large hand going to cup her face while the other holding her hand in mid air was pushed down until his hands left hers to find a new place on her hip to pull her close as possible with the layers of clothes between them. She didn't expect it, the gasp that came was an automatic response, just like how her arms raised to his biceps and shoulder to hold on to him. His tongue didn't ask nicely for entrance, instead it thrust it's way in and there were no apologies made with his lips. This was his frustration talking to her anger. His need matching her own. She asked for no apologies, nor did she shrink back from him as she returned the kiss with equal intensity. Her tongue dueled with his, each trying to be gain control over the other, each saying a thousand and one things without any words.

They never really needed words.

He captured her top lip between his own, suckling on the moist fullness. Time slowed, he felt every brush of her lips, tasted very corner of her mouth. He was aware of her arms around his neck and fingers in his hair, the pressure of her breast against him even through his coat. But most of all he was aware that she was kissing him back. Suddenly it wasn't frustration and anger speaking, it was explanations, now it was apologies, and promises. When he finally released her lips, kissing her forehead before resting his head against hers, his breath brushed her face. He pulled her hands down from around his neck and held both between them.

Even through the smell of the dirt, mud, decay, and sweat he could smell her. The moisture she felt then inclined her to look up at him, he was crying, and suddenly she realized so was she.

"I'm sorry, Joss. I'm sorry." he repeated in quiet whispers.

And then she amazed him again. "I know John. I know. So am I."

She amazed him with her trust, with her ability to let go of her anger. What she needed at the moment was from him to be there. And truthfully he'd needed her since he left her in that hallway. Admitting that he needed her was hard for him, because he was afraid to need her. He was afraid of having to cause that look on her face again. He was moved by the vast amount of love she was capable of.

"What can I do?" He'd do anything for her he realized a while back. If she asked for it, he'd comply. But she didn't know that she had such powers over him.

"Be here." She said softy as she took her hand back and placed them on the lapels of his coat. "Trust me enough to be with me..."

"okay," he whispered, "I'm here."

When she nodded her head, he kissed her again. All those times he imagined what it would be like to kiss Jocelyn Carter he never pictured it the way it actually ended up happening, but with every kiss he learned a little more about her, and found that while this wasn't normal, even though they weren't like everyone else, this was right for them. He could say he'd give her everything but that wouldn't be true, but if he could give her anything, he could give himself to her and that was all she needed and wanted. In the uncertainty that was their everyday life, he finally came to the conclusion it was better to have her than to run from her, it was better to face the storm with someone at your side than alone.

This was their romance, their imperfect perfect kiss, because this is who they were.

The End.