I do not own Person of Interest or anything else you might recognize.

Perfect days like this one didn't come along nearly as often as they should.

Joss didn't bother stopping the laugh that escaped as she sprinted up the gentle slope of the hill in front of her. There was no reason she should. The sun was shining, birds were singing sweetly in the trees around her, she was finally home with her family, and - perhaps best of all - she was about to beat the pants off John Reese.

A warm spring breeze skimmed her bare shoulders before weaving its way through the short wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, as their imaginary finish line - the reddish-orange clusters of wild columbine growing through the dense brush at the top - came into view. The sight of it brought on another giggle, and her confidence in her chances of winning rose significantly. She was close, so close she could already taste victory - and it was sweeter than the slice of chocolate cake sitting in the picnic basket they had abandoned a few minutes ago.

She didn't waste time looking back to see if John was gaining. The last time she checked he was more than ten yards behind her, and she had less than that to go before reaching the goal line. There was no way he could catch up to her now - even with his longer legs - but heaven help her if he did, because that man would never let her hear the end of it.

Just a few more steps to go then -

"Gotcha!" Two strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and jerked her back into a solid, warm body. "You didn't really think you were going to win did you?"

"Put me down!" she protested half-heartedly when he picked her up and carried her the few remaining feet to the finish line. They landed in the soft grass just on the other side of the drooping flowers in a tangle of arms and legs. She pursed her lips and scowled, but gave up trying to hide her amusement when she saw the boyish grin spreading across his face. "You cheated!" she laughed.

"Cheated? How can you even suggest that Carter? I gave you an official head start."

"Thirty-seconds?" she asked wryly, then rolled onto her back to tilt her face up to the bright blue sky, listening to John catch his breath along with her. "I didn't need a head start in the first place." She took another deep breath and plucked a sunny yellow flower from the bunch beside her, waving it in his general direction. "But yes, it is cheating when you tackle the other person to keep them from winning."

He scoffed at that and twisted onto his side, resting his weight on one elbow while he looked down at her. "I didn't tackle you Joss, I carried you. Big difference."

"Well whatever you want to call it John, it isn't fair."

Dang it, that mischievous sparkle in his eyes was starting to distract her from the point she was trying to make. Something that seemed to happen a lot around him. He was probably doing it on purpose, but she wasn't going to let him get to her today…at least not yet. She twirled the flower's stem lazily between her fingertips, then tapped it against his chest. "You know what this means don't you?"

"You get to feed me chocolate cake?"

"No."

"You have to wear that little red -"

"No!" She laughed harder and nudged him again with her flower. "You didn't play fair, so that means I win."

John seemed to think that over while he reached out to pick his own wildflower. "You didn't win sweetheart, it was a tie," he murmured as he caressed her cheek, the curve of her smile with the flower's soft petals. "And I never promised to play fair."

Their eyes met, and the flush that infused her skin had nothing to do with the warm sunshine or their silly race. When he looked at her like that her heart missed several beats, and she no longer cared about winning or losing. She didn't care about the years that had come between them or the problems still chasing her. She just wanted to stay in his arms until it all disappeared.

"Come here." He threaded his long fingers through her hair, releasing it from the scrap of ribbon she had used to tie it back, and drew her closer.

"Taylor and my mom will be wondering where we are," she objected even as she raised her head to meet his kiss.

"Not any more."

They jumped apart and bolted to their feet in time to watch Peter Yogorov step out from the stand of trees behind them, the heavy barrel of his gun aimed directly at her head. "You really should learn to lock your doors Officer Carter. You never know who might show up, even all the way out here in quiet little Newburgh."

Oh God, he couldn't have… not her baby…her mom. "You bastard!" She lunged at the leader of the Russian Mafia while John scrambled for his gun - the one that was safely tucked away in his nightstand after she had convinced him to leave it at her mom's house earlier that afternoon.

Without warning, Yogorov shifted his stance and fired a single shot.

Everything after that happened so fast, yet it felt like the moment was playing out in agonizing slow motion. Her heightened senses amplified every detail - the bright flash of the bullet exploding from the muzzle of the gun, the sunlight glinting off its shiny gold casing as it hurtled towards her, Yogorov's cold, murderous smile, and the hatred simmering in his dark eyes. Behind her, she could hear John cursing, shouting her name, fighting to get to her; but instinctively she knew he would not be able to reach her in time.

Joss sucked in a deep breath, and braced herself for the inevitable pain that would come when the bullet ripped in to her. She prayed it wouldn't last long.

"I warned you what would happen if you didn't keep your end of our deal," Yogorov snarled. "Now you're going to pay for what you did to my brother."

The blood drained from her face. Her feet stumbled, and her heart stopped beating as she realized in a moment of nauseating clarity that Yogorov wasn't there to kill her - at least not yet, not until he had taken away the people who mattered most to her.

"No!" Her horrified scream might as well have been a whisper for all the impact it had. She tried to turn and run, to throw herself in front of John and shield him with her body, but her feet were weighted down. Any attempt she made to move was sluggish, as though she were slogging through quicksand. There was nothing she could do but stand frozen in place, listening to the high-pitched whine of the slug as it buzzed past her to find its mark.

The instant it did the invisible bonds holding her back snapped, and she turned in time to see the bullet slam into John's chest.

His eyes widened in surprise, then pain as his body stiffened and crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. She sank to her knees beside him and pressed her hands against the wound in a pathetic attempt to stop the steady flow of blood that was already pooling on the grass underneath him.

"It's my fault your brother died," her voice cracked with fury, helplessness. "Fight me you fucking coward!"

But Yogorov was gone, and the warm spring day had faded into a cold, dark void. Suddenly she found herself kneeling on the sidewalk outside of her old precinct, with John slowly bleeding to death in her arms.

Blindly she patted her pockets then the pitted concrete around her, searching in vain for her cell phone to call for help. She was trying not to give in to the urge to panic at the sound of his shallow breathing, but that was proving to be impossible. John was slipping away from her, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

"Help me, please!" She pivoted on her knees and peered into the darkness. "Someone help me!"

"Joss," John called out weakly. Tears obscured her vision when she looked down at his handsome face that was contorted in pain. "I'm sorry -" he winced and tried to swallow around another spasm that rippled through his chest.

"Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for." She gripped the hand that was reaching for her and pressed her lips against his knuckles. "Don't try to talk now, save your strength."

"No, Joss," her name gurgled from his lips, but there was an urgency in his voice that scared her even more. "This is important. You need to know…I love you…have for a long time…"

"I love you too." Somehow, she managed to get the words out through her tears. Unable to keep from touching him, she wiped away the beads of sweat dotting his forehead and stroked his pale cheek. "But you're not going to die, not now."

"Take care of Harold for me…Shaw, Fusco."

"Stop!" Anger was starting to replace the fear that threatened to paralyze her. She had lost her mom, her son. She couldn't lose him too. "You will be able to take care of them yourself because you are going to be fine. Do you hear me John? I am not going to let you die."

"It's no use sweetheart." He groaned and tried to take a deeper breath. "Promise me Joss…"

"No! Just…stay with me. Please don't leave."

"Promise me…"

"Okay I will, I promise." She was afraid to argue with him further. His strength was fading fast, and a dark trickle of blood had started to seep out from the corner of his mouth. "I promise, just don't leave me. Please"

"Never." The promise was weak and slurred as his eyes drifted shut. "Love you."

"John!" She grabbed his hand and called his name again; but it was too late.

He was gone.

"No!"

A broken scream - hers - finally jolted her awake.

Joss sat up in bed, breathless and shivering more from the sense of terror smothering her than the cold drops of sweat that were sliding down her spine. She blinked rapidly to help her eyes adjust to the slate-colored darkness and listened to the sound of her pants mix with ting of sleet pellets hitting the windows.

Damn, it had happened again.

Her body sagged into the pillows at her back as she raked her trembling hands through her hair and held them against her neck. It was just a dream. "Just a dream," she muttered under her breath; but the reassurance did little to soothe her. Nothing ever did, and this particular nightmare had been the cause of many sleepless nights for her during the last two years.

There were different versions - in some John showed up in Phoenix to rescue her from witness protection, while in others he was waiting for her in her old brownstone to welcome her home - but they ended the same way every time: Yogorov always ambushed them, and John always died in her arms on the sidewalk outside the precinct.

Groggy, and more than a little disoriented, she gulped down several deep breaths and willed her racing heart to settle while she tried to figure out what was real and what was her imagination. Had it all been a dream? The botched homecoming, running into John at the cemetery, the shootout with Yogorov's crew? She forced her eyes open again and squinted to make out her surroundings. This certainly didn't look like her one-bedroom apartment, but that would mean…

Restlessness propelled her to her feet. She shoved the blankets aside and fumbled blindly across the nightstand's smooth wooden surface for a flashlight, the one she always kept nearby, when the sound of approaching footsteps stopped her.

"Joss?"

She spun around and exhaled roughly in surprise, then relief when she came face to face with the man she needed to see most in that moment. His wonderfully familiar blue eyes were wide and filled with concern when he reached for her. Without hesitating, she threw herself into his arms and buried her face in the crook of his neck. "John?"

"I'm here," he murmured against her hair. "I've got you sweetheart."

The emotion dammed up at the back of her throat made it impossible to do anything other than whisper his name again. Her entire body was shaking in spite of her efforts to stop it, and she gripped the soft material of his shirt in her fists until her knuckles turned white. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she breathed in the calming scent of his soap and the heat from his skin. "It felt so real."

"No, it was just a bad dream." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stroked her back with one hand, cradling her to him with the other. "You're safe."

The tears she had managed to hold back started to fall at the sound of that low, husky promise. "He shot you," she mumbled, unable to block out the images from her nightmare.

"Who, Simmons?"

"No, Yogorov. He came out of nowhere and…" The helplessness she had experienced in that moment washed over her again; and the knowledge that she had caused John that same kind of pain roughened her voice. "I am so sorry."

"Don't Joss," he said gruffly as if reading her mind. "Don't think about that. You're home now. We're safe. He can't hurt us anymore."

She nodded against his shoulder and held him tighter, soaking in the strength and comfort he offered, the sensation of his big body pressed against hers, the steady beat of his heart that matched her own. John was right; she was finally home, he was there with her, and she was not about to let go.

The tension knotting her muscles eased with every tender reassurance he whispered in her ear. His hands continued to rub her shoulders, her arms, and her back. When they fell to her waist, she sensed the unmistakable shift in the air between them. It was electric. Heady. Unpredictable. What had started out as an effort to soothe her fears was quickly growing into a desperate attempt to satisfy the need that had been building since their first meeting in that diner five years ago.

She bit back a moan when his palm slid over the curve of her bottom. A rush of liquid heat flooded her limbs, and the temperature in the loft seemed to jump twenty-degrees when his fingertips swept over the bare skin at the back of her thighs. Her body loosened even more and responded to his increasingly insistent touch, her hips swaying, seeking out his. The murmured endearments turned into a hoarse groan when she brushed against him.

This was crazy. Joss knew she needed to say something, do something to stop him. She wanted this, he did too; but it was a bad idea. It would be a mistake, no matter how much she wanted to give in and surrender to this thing between them. That wasn't possible - at least not now. John had asked for time, and she was determined to keep her promise to give him that…although it sure as hell felt like he had everything figured out already. She stretched against him, and moved to step away when he growled her name and pulled her body closer to his with the hand at her hip.

His breath tickled her neck as he nuzzled a spot directly below her ear that made her knees wobble. She clutched at his arms to keep her balance, helpless to do anything more than tilt her head back while his lips traced a burning path along the line of her jaw, straying dangerously close to her mouth. He cursed softly and lowered his forehead to her temple. "Tell me to stop Joss," he whispered tightly. "Tell me to stop and I will."

She closed her eyes and nodded, the movement causing her nose to graze the side of his. He was right, she should end this, it wasn't fair to either of them. She opened her mouth to tell him that when the opposite inexplicably tumbled out. "Make me forget," she pleaded. The nightmares, the threats to her family and her new life, the last two lonely years. All of it. "Please."

He moved so fast she barely had time to realize he had given in before he covered her mouth with his. Contentment poured through her as his lips, firm yet achingly soft, moved possessively over hers. She squirmed in his arms, needing more, trying to get closer to return the kiss that was every bit as hungry and desperate as the one they had shared in the cemetery the day before.

The fingers tangled in her hair slipped down to cup her neck, his palm resting over her runaway pulse. Instinct took over when she felt the weight of his thumb stroking her jaw, pressing on her chin. She opened her mouth under the gentle pressure, and her groan of relief melded with his when his tongue slid past hers in one demanding thrust. Using the hand curled around her waist, he dragged her closer until the soft curves of her body aligned perfectly with the hard planes of his.

Any sense of self-control she thought she had dissolved into a puddle at their feet when he kissed her harder, deeper. Her skin felt hot, tingly. Every nerve ending flared to life as a new, stronger sense of restlessness began building inside of her. It threatened to overwhelm her, to bring her to her knees. She rocked her hips against his as she smoothed her palms over his wildly beating heart, then across the tops of his shoulders to wrap her arms around his neck. Rising up on her toes, she opened her mouth wider to circle her tongue around his, fighting to keep up with the frantic rhythm he'd set.

That small part of her brain that was still able to form coherent thoughts warned her to pull back, to slow things down; but it was drowned out by her thoughts about how right this was. They had lost so much time, was it really so bad to want this? Especially when it felt so incredibly good?

A pitiful whimper escaped when his hands dipped below the thin shirt she was wearing to tug on the ties of her shorts. She found it impossible to breathe when his fingers skimmed the sensitive skin at her hip before slipping under the waistband to cup her bare bottom. He pressed her firmly against the neediest part of him while his other hand teased its way up her side to cover her breast.

"Don't stop," she wanted to cry out. "Please, please don't stop." This was so much better than any fantasy she had dreamed up during her time with the FBI.

Joss arched against him, silently begging for more as he squeezed her gently then rubbed his thumb over her taut nipple. He released her mouth and dragged his lips lower, taking his sweet time to kiss his way down her throat to the open collar of her shirt. She felt him smile against her skin at her mewl of displeasure when he withdrew his hand to undo the buttons and ease the fabric aside.

"John," she moaned and sifted her fingers through his hair to anchor his mouth to her; but he had pulled away, his body stiff and his eyes focused on her chest.

A sudden chill raced through her at the abrupt change. Why was he staring at her like that? Had she done something wrong?

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she scrambled to figure out what happened in the last three seconds that would cause him to…damn. Too late, she realized what had caught his attention: the slightly raised, slightly discolored slash marring her skin less than an inch from her heart.

Quietly, feeling somewhat embarrassed, Joss gathered the edges of the dress shirt between her shaky fingers and turned away to cover herself; but John was faster.

"No, don't." Unshed tears roughened his voice as he laid his hands over hers and drew them back. The muscles surrounding his jaw flexed, and he swallowed hard before leaning forward to press a soft kiss against the scar. "I'm sorry."

"That was not your fault John…none of this was your fault." This time when she pulled away, he let her. "I'm the one who's sorry, I shouldn't have..." No she shouldn't have, that was painfully obvious now. No matter how good it felt, it had been a stupid mistake; and the stricken look on John's face told her he thought so too.

She shook her head then looked down to concentrate on working the tiny buttons back through their equally tiny holes with her suddenly clumsy fingers. She had two fastened before he wrapped his hands around hers again and waited until she met his gaze.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger to raise her face to his. "You have nothing to be sorry for either Joss."

Maybe he was right; but try telling that to her body which was practically humming with disappointment. Or her heart that was starting to sting from the unintended rejection.

She held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded slowly and blinked up at him as she finally noticed the change she hadn't earlier - his beard was gone. "Thought it was time," he explained, picking up on her confusion.

Bearded John was sexy, but clean-shaven John was knock-your-panties-off gorgeous. Unable to stop herself, she reached out to run her fingers over the newly revealed skin, savoring the warmth and sense of strength she found there. Her heart twisted in her chest at the familiar sight, and the memories of the past it brought with it.

Suddenly realizing what she was doing, Joss nodded again and withdrew her hand, yet he held on. The weak morning light couldn't hide the worry in his serious blue eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine." She hoped the half smile she had managed was convincing. "It was just a bad dream, nothing I can't handle."

"Did you have nightmares like this one a lot while you were away?" His grip tightened, but he didn't move any closer.

"Only when I closed my eyes," she thought honestly. And she was willing to bet John had endured more than his fair share of nightmares during the last two years as well. "The first few months were rough, but after that…" she shrugged, not wanting to say something else that might ruin the moment. "It got better."

They might have stood there holding hands and staring at each other even longer if Bear hadn't chosen to interrupt. He barked sharply to get their attention, letting them know he had been neglected long enough. They turned to find him sitting on the floor a few feet away, whining and swishing his tail. Joss laughed breathlessly at those dark, pleading eyes and rolled her stiff shoulders. "And what do you want?"

"He said he was hungry," John translated. "Asked if you could make him breakfast."

Two furry brown ears perked up at the mention of food - apparently, the only English words he had bothered to learn.

"He did huh?"

"Yes. I wouldn't mind some either - bacon and eggs please." His mouth quirked, and he dropped her hand to move towards the bathroom. Bear continued to watch him curiously from his post by her side.

"Bacon and eggs?" she repeated since her ability to speak decided to desert her at the sight of that slow smile that finally reached his eyes.

"Yup; and you'd better hurry if you want to shower this morning. We have to meet Lionel at the safe house in a couple of hours…although your hair is cute like that." He winked and shot an exaggerated look in that direction.

Oh God, she could only imagine what she must look like after all of that sweating and tossing and turning. A shower would help her wake up…wait, they were meeting Fusco at nine-thirty, that would mean it was -

Her eyes flew to the clock on the nightstand: 7:15. Nearly twelve hours had passed since she had stretched out on the couch last night and closed her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had slept so long.

"Go hop in the shower, I'll start breakfast." John must have decided to take pity on her, but the thought of food suddenly made her queasy. He had promised to drive out to Newburgh with her today after they met with Harold and Fusco. She was so close to seeing her mom and Taylor again, she didn't want to waste time on something trivial like breakfast.

"I'm not really that hungry," she said edging towards the stairs, the dress shirt still gathered between her fingers at the collar. "I'll just get ready -"

"We are not going anywhere until you eat something Joss. I happen to like a woman with a little more meat on her bones," he countered when she opened her mouth to argue.

Oh did he? She wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that, but she had never been one to back down from a challenge and that is exactly what he had just issued. So he wanted to eat breakfast before they left for her mom's house? Fine, she would show him. "Go on, finish getting dressed." She shooed him away with her hands and headed for the kitchen. "Your bacon and eggs will be ready in a few minutes."

Curious to see if he was actually listening, she glanced back in time to find Bear following her. John however was standing in the same spot, his frank gaze admiring her backside as she walked away. When she stopped and turned to catch him in the act, his eyes me hers with a shameless smile before he headed up the stairs.

"Come on buddy."

The two of them meandered in to the kitchen, and she set out making scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits with gravy. Every now and then she let a piece fall to the floor for her canine shadow to gobble up.

Not long after she had set the last plate on the black granite countertop, John joined them in the kitchen dressed in his customary dark suit and white dress shirt. The familiar sight of the man she had fallen in love with brought a smile to her lips, accompanied by an uncomfortable pinch in her chest. She leaned back to switch off the burners, determined to ignore sudden thoughts of little moments like this they had missed out on, of what could have been had things had played out differently.

"Breakfast looks great Joss," he grinned as he settled on the stool next to her. Bear plopped down behind them to wait for any pity scraps that might find their way to the floor.

They ate in silence for the most part, but in between scraping his plate clean and snagging a fourth biscuit from the pan, John threatened to leave her behind if she didn't quit picking at hers. Her stomach countered with its own threats, but she eventually ate enough to satisfy him. He carried their dishes to the sink while she ducked into the bathroom to shower and change.

Forty-five minutes later - a record for her - she tossed her make-up bag into her suitcase and wheeled it out into the living room where John was harnessing Bear for their trip. She pulled her heavy coat on over her lavender-colored sweater then laced up her boots before joining him.

"Ready to go?"

Yes…no…honestly the answer lay somewhere in between. She desperately needed to see her family, but last time she left the loft Yogorov had taken a shot at her. She refused to hide, but she also refused to put the people she loved in danger. Keeping them safe was the main reason she had agreed to go with the FBI in the first place. "Sure. I'll drive."

"Thanks, but I'll drive."

He locked up and led her to the garage where he loaded her suitcase into the trunk. The snow that had fallen overnight slowed them down, but fell short of the predicted blizzard and a few minutes after 9:30 they arrived at one of the more frequently used safe houses in Midtown. Harold was already there, and if she was right about the other car parked at the curb, so was Fusco.

The sudden burst of nervousness tying her stomach in knots was unwelcome and unexpected. Out of all the people in her life, she was confident her partner would be the most understanding; but now, waiting in the hallway while John punched in the security code, she started to wonder if that was something else she was wrong about.

Casually, with a smile she did not feel, she wiped her damp palms against her jeans and stepped into the living room. Her eyes tracked around the space, taking in the walls that were now painted a calming sage-green with pomegranate-red accents, the oversized pillows on the new sofa and loveseat, the flat-screen TV, and the heavy drapes that had been pulled back to allow more light in through the bullet-proof windows. Bear tugged against his leash, and she dropped it so he could greet Finch before making his way to the den where his doggie bed was probably waiting.

"Joss," Harold smiled in welcome, yet she noticed the slightest bit of uncertainty in his eyes. Almost as if he was still shocked to see her alive and well.

"Hey Mr. Sunshine," Fusco called out from the kitchen. "You sure stirred up a hornet's nest yesterday with your little shoot out." His voice grew louder the closer he got to the living room.

Should she call out or warn him somehow, maybe wait in the other room until John and Harold broke the news?

"I've never seen so many Feds crawling around a crime scene before. Reminds me of -" he froze when he rounded the corner and spotted her.

"Hi Fusco," she said quietly. That wasn't exactly what she had planned on saying; but if his wide eyes and open-mouth stare were any indication, he hadn't heard her anyway. The color drained from his face and the coffee mug in his hand tumbled to the floor as he pointed at her with a shaking finger…then promptly fainted.

"Well I certainly didn't expect that," Harold mumbled and stepped out of the way while she rushed to his side, John not far behind. Together they lifted him onto the couch and laid him against the pillows.

"Fusco," she tapped his cheek lightly then shook his shoulder. "Come on, Lionel, wake up." The small knot forming where the back of his head had collided with the side of an end table concerned her. "Keep trying to wake him up," she ordered and pushed to her feet. "I'll grab an ice pack."

"Get up you lazy son of a …"

Joss smirked at John's less than gentle methods and made her way to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, then the kitchen for some ice. Thankfully, everything was exactly where she remembered it being two years ago despite the changes in nearly every room. By the time she grabbed an ice tray out of the freezer, Fusco was awake and complaining.

"Enjoy your nap Lionel?" John asked dryly.

"Did you see her?" The panic in his voice caught her attention, and she leaned back far enough to see her ex-partner twisting against the couch cushions, looking frantically around the room. "She was right there."

"Who?"

"Carter. She was standing right beside you just a second ago."

"Detective Fusco that is not a funny joke." Joss rolled her eyes at Harold's condescending yet sympathetic tone. She hung back in the shadows of the kitchen to let them have their fun a moment longer before she went in and rescued him.

"It's not a joke! You saw her didn't you?" he railed at Finch then turned to John. "I know you did. She was wearing a dark coat with a purple sweater underneath and…and her hair was shorter." Bear, who had wandered into the living room to investigate, barked loudly. "See, the mutt agrees with me."

The "mutt" growled at the perceived insult, then trotted into the kitchen in search of his food dish.

"She was right there." Fusco struggled to get up again, but John kept him seated with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps you hit your head harder than we thought Detective. I could phone Dr. Tillman," Finch offered. "Although I believe she is growing tired of making house calls every week."

"Leave him be you two." Deciding he'd had enough, Joss walked over to the couch and set the ice pack down on the pillow beside him. "Hello Lionel."

He jumped to his feet and swiveled around to face her. For a second she thought he might pass out again. "You're seeing this right?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her.

"Seeing what?" John asked.

"Are you kidding me?" His eyes darted nervously to John, to Harold, then back to her before he took a tentative step around the edge of the couch. "She's right there." Fusco waved in her direction and stretched out a hand to touch her.

"If he pinches me, y'all are in trouble," she warned the other two men in the room, then caught his hand in hers. "Yes Lionel, I am really here."

The contact seemed to snap him out of his stupor. His entire body jerked back in retreat, and he nearly fell over the arm of the couch. An angry red flush filled his pale cheeks. "What the hell Carter? Is this some sort of sick joke? Simmons shot you…I was at your funeral."

Her heart sank with each bitter accusation. She had counted on her partner understanding the situation, perhaps more than anyone else would. He was a fellow cop; he had been a part of HR once and knew what they were capable of. They had beaten him and sent a hit man to kill his son. She had been protecting him and Lee just as much as Taylor and her mom.

"I'm sorry Fusco. I wanted to tell you -" This time she reached for him but he yanked his arm away, shaking his head. Slowly she lowered her hand to her side and tried her best to explain while he was giving her the chance. "After I was shot, Special Agent Moss moved me to a private hospital somewhere outside of the city. A week or two later, when I was strong enough to travel, he placed me in the Bureau's witness security program and I was relocated to Phoenix. In exchange for their protection, I turned over all of the evidence I had collected and testified at the grand jury hearings. Once HR was dismantled, and the last trial was over I was turned loose, free to come home. "

"And what? That's supposed to make it better?" He glared at her, his eyes dark with distrust. "You faked your death; hurt the people who actually gave a damn about you. You abandoned your own son, for what? Just so you could be the one to bring HR down?"

"No, it wasn't like that." She stepped around the sofa, anxious to make him understand.

"They forced her in to it."

Three sets of eyes turned to stare at the unexpected sound of John's voice. She watched him move closer, more than a little surprised, yet thankful for his support.

"Joss didn't have a choice. She came home as soon as she could."

"Ha," Fusco scoffed. "You really believe that?"

"I do," John answered firmly. Every trace of his earlier levity had vanished. He held her gaze a second longer before shifting to face another round of outraged questions directed at him.

"You don't feel the least bit betrayed? Cheated? You're not at all furious that she let us think she was dead for two years?" Fusco challenged. He jabbed a thumb in her direction and squared his shoulders. "We risked our lives to avenge her death, to finish the war she started with HR, all while she was hiding out in some cozy safe house eating bonbons and watching soap operas on the tax payer's dime."

"My feelings are between Joss and me." The muscles in his jaw flexed, and if looks could kill - which was not entirely outside the realm of possibilities with John - Fusco would be on the floor bleeding out on Finch's hand-knotted rug.

"Fine," he snorted and turned to her again. "But what about your son Carter? Did you stop to think about Taylor at all, or were you more interested in keeping yourself out of trouble? You left quite a body count in your wake you know…the bartender, Terney, Laskey to name a few...that must have been hard to explain."

"That's enough Lionel." Despite the quiet tone, there was no mistaking John's warning.

"It wasn't like that." She licked her lips and clamped them together, fighting to keep her emotions under control. Fusco had a right to his anger, but to suggest that she had willingly left Taylor behind...that she had abandoned him to save herself …not a chance in hell. "You were all in danger. I didn't have a choice, so I did what was necessary to protect the people I care about - my son most of all."

Her fingers dug into the richly upholstered couch cushions in an effort to stave off the disappointment and frustration that needled her when he muttered "yeah right" under his breath. She knew he was lashing out at her because he was hurt, but that didn't take the sting out of his words.

"Perhaps we should talk about the matter at hand, the threat to Ms. Carter," Finch, the peacemaker of the group, suggested quietly. "We know that Peter Yogorov was behind the shoot-out at your apartment -"

"Your apartment huh? Being a government witness worked out well for you," Fusco grumbled.

"Lionel," John growled and made a move towards him that she easily blocked.

"My temporary apartment," she stressed. "Just until I found a job and got back on my feet."

"As I was saying, two of Mr. Yogorov's lieutenants were killed while a third escaped. It appears that their intention was to kidnap her, and most likely torture then kill her as retribution for Lazlo Yogorov's murder at the hands of HR."

"I promised to relocate his brother to a safer facility outside of HR's reach in exchange for his cooperation and a sworn statement implicating Quinn," she explained before Fusco could ask the obvious question. "I picked the wrong judge to trust."

"Jeeze, you really stepped in it this time Carter."

"Did your buddy in Organized Crime find out anything?" John asked with enough ice in his voice to make her shiver.

"Yeah. Word on the street is that Yogorov is back in town after an extended vacation in the old country, and he is pissed. He's looking for someone, and he wants this person dead - painfully dead." Joss swore she saw a glimmer of concern flicker behind his reading glasses before he paced over to the bank of windows on the opposite side of the room.

"That won't happen."

Fusco shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out at the dreary morning. "After the mess he made of things yesterday looking for her, I recommend she crawl back to the FBI and their witness security program."

"I'm not going back."

"She's staying with me," John said at the same time.

Joss didn't need to see his face to know that Fusco was rolling his eyes. "Well I hate to rain on your little reunion parade even more, but - as I'm sure you already know - your new partner, Agent Falcon, is on his way to the city."

"What?" That was a surprise, although she should have guessed Ben would be on the first flight out once Moss told him about the shooting. She pulled her phone out of her coat pocket to check for missed calls, wondering why he had not tried to contact her if he knew what had happened, then remembered the darn thing was dead.

"Moss and his team are handling the bulk of the investigation, but the rookie liaison agent let it slip that Agent Falcon was flying in today. He's landing at LaGuardia later this afternoon. I'm sure I can get the flight number if you want to pick him up."

It was Joss' turn to roll her eyes, partly because of Fusco's sour attitude and partly because she knew Ben would be looking for her soon. He would want to set up a face to face meeting, and yesterday's close call would give him the perfect excuse to pry into her personal life while he tried to strong-arm her into helping him bring down the Russian Mob. But she meant every word she said the last time they spoke. She had finished what she set out to do. She wasn't going back - for any reason.

"That won't be necessary."

He nodded and spared the frozen city outside one last glance before he turned to face the three of them again. "This at least explains why the Bureau is all over this case instead of passing it on like they usually do," he griped. "What do you want me to tell this guy when he shows up later? Am I supposed to know you're back from the dead? Is there a code word, or a secret handshake?"

"Don't worry about Falcon; I'll take care of him." She cut her eyes to John who had stiffened when she mentioned Ben. Was he worried…or jealous? Both ideas were ridiculous, yet the dark look on his face said otherwise.

"Who exactly is Agent Falcon?" Finch asked casually, but he didn't fool her. All three men were watching her, clearly interested in the answer.

"Supervisory Special Agent Benjamin Falcon was my handler while I was in witness security. He helped me get settled in my apartment and find a job with Glendale PD." Bear trotted into the living room to sit by her side. His cold, wet nose immediately nudged her hand in a plea for attention, and she caved almost as quickly. She ruffled the soft fur between his ears before continuing. "He also coordinated my testimony for each trial, managed my security detail, and arranged for the transfer of the evidence I had collected to the Bureau's New York City office."

"So giving me the key to that safe deposit box was what - another joke? An insurance plan to buy you more time to get away?" Fusco pushed away from the wall he was leaning against and stalked across the room. "HR tied me to a chair and tortured me for that information. They broke into my house and held a gun to Lee's head. He was alone, terrified with a fucking hit man pointing a gun at him…and I had to tell him it would be okay. I had to listen while…" his voice broke and his face crumpled at what had to be agonizing memories. Bear snarled low in his throat when he grabbed her arm roughly and yanked her closer. "I thought my son was dead, and now you're telling me that was all for nothing."

John moved to intercept him, but Joss was quicker. She stood toe to toe with her old partner and refused to give in to the urge to wince when his fingers dug into the underside of her arm. "It wasn't all for nothing. I meant what I said when I gave you that key Fusco. You are the best partner I have ever worked with; and you were the only person I trusted with it."

The tears she had managed to hold back since their arrival were dangerously close to falling now. She covered the hand on her arm with hers and tried again to get through to him. "I never wanted you or Lee to get involved in this; and I am so sorry you had to go through that. I didn't plan on Simmons grabbing you or ambushing us that night. By the time I woke up in that hospital, I realized it would be safer for all of us if the FBI took over. I told Moss about the evidence in the safe deposit box to draw HR away from you."

"Save your excuses for someone who will believe 'em." He released her and took his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose as he backed away. "Next time you want to protect me or my family, talk to me first. You might be surprised to learn that I can take care of myself. I have a few tricks of my own up my sleeve."

Slowly, with a noisy sigh, Fusco rubbed a hand over his face then replaced his reading glasses to look at the other two men in the room who were staring at them with identical expressions of concern.

"I gotta get back to work. If I find out anything else I'll be in touch." He reached for his coat draped over a straight-backed chair, and spared her one last glance before heading for the door. "See ya around Carter."

The curt dismissal hurt. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she watched him shrug into his coat and walk out. Once again, reality had proven to be disastrously different from the homecoming her imagination had created. Instead of a welcome-back hug or even a slap on the back, there was only shock, suspicion, and a whole lot of anger. She sensed John standing beside her, the hand he placed on her hip.

"Let him go," he whispered; but she couldn't, not like this. She wanted to make amends - or at least start to - because she didn't know when she would see him again. If she didn't say something now…

"Lionel wait," she called out and hurried to the door before it shut behind him.

"Yeah?" He turned but kept his eyes trained on a spot just over her shoulder.

"Would you like to come out to my mom's for Thanksgiving dinner?" That wasn't exactly what she meant to say - and judging by the look on Fusco's face it was not what he expected to hear - but there was no taking it back now. "I thought you and Lee might like to join us - if you don't have anything planned that is. I know it's kind of last minute."

He was so quiet she wasn't sure he was going to answer one way or the other. Finally, his mouth flattened into a thin line, and he sighed. "I don't know. We're supposed to go to my ex's this year." His eyes flitted to hers for a brief second before he stepped away from the door to leave again. "Lock up."

Joss flipped the deadbolt in place and pressed her fingertips to the ache in her temple. Damn, he must be angrier than she thought if he would rather spend time with Janet and her current husband than with her family. If even half of the stories he had told her over the years about their marriage and divorce were true, then his ex-wife should be the last person he would want to spend the holiday with…until now. She jumped when a hand closed around her shoulder.

"Hey, you okay?"

It was John, and the mix of sympathy and understanding she saw in his eyes filled her with a fierce urge to hug him. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied while her hand fell back to her side. At his pointed look she caved in, and her fake half-smile faltered. "I didn't expect him to be this upset; but he's right you know."

"No he's not." He gripped both of her shoulders and maneuvered her until she was facing him. "Lionel can be mad - hell he can sulk about it for the rest of his life if that makes him feel better - but some of the things he said were out of line."

"It certainly looks like he might do that, but honestly I'd be just as furious if I were in his shoes. I might have said some of the same things myself."

"Somehow I doubt that." One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile she couldn't help but return. "Give him some time Joss, he'll come around." She nodded, then quickly dropped her hold on his wrist when she saw Harold approaching with Bear in his harness. Sensing the slight change in her, John pulled away and made room for them in the small foyer.

"I need to head out as well. I have a meeting later this morning with an old chess partner who may be able to help us locate Mr. Yogorov." He shared a knowing look with John before tucking the ends of his scarf into his coat.

"Chess partner?" Who could that be? Her curiosity - then concern - doubled when she saw John's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"Need any back up Finch?"

Whoever this was must be somewhat dangerous to get that kind of reaction out of him…and she would love to tag along and find out. Another hour or two in the city wouldn't hurt anything; especially if there was a chance Harold could be hurt while trying to help her.

"No, thank you though Mr. Reese. This is something I think I should handle on my own."

She didn't like that answer any more than John did. The uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach prompted her to volunteer, "I'd be happy to go with you."

"No."

If she wasn't so eager to get on the road to Newburgh, John's immediate refusal might have irritated her more than it did. She may have been sidelined the last couple of years, but was still more than capable of handling herself in a fight. Yesterday was a perfect example of that.

"I appreciate your offer Detect…Joss, but I will be fine. I'm merely having coffee with an old associate. However you should leave for your mother's house now before the next storm system passes through," Harold insisted.

The snow didn't bother her. She had driven through worse conditions, and the sand trucks were likely out treating the roads already. Besides she had a feeling this meeting was more than a friendly chat at Starbucks since he had yet to mention the other person by name. "I can drive myself so John can -"

"There's no need -"

"I am taking you to your mom's," John raised his voice to speak over both of their objections. "You are not going anywhere alone."

"You can't be in two places at once, and it sounds like Finch needs you more." She tipped her head the slightest bit in that direction, hoping he would get the hint. "I'm just going for a drive in the country."

"And what if Yogorov decides to go for a drive in the country too, and ambushes you on one of those back roads?" He couldn't possibly know how close he was to describing her nightmare. Images from that disturbing dream flashed through her mind and left her speechless, not that he had even given her a chance to answer before turning back to Harold. "What time is your meeting?"

"In thirty-five minutes, so we should all get going."

"Fine. I'll drive Joss out to Sarah's then send Shaw back to catch up with you. Take Bear and call me when you're done."

Harold agreed and took the gruff orders in stride, but one day she was going to have to tell that man he wouldn't always be able to call the shots…only not today because it was clear that would be a complete waste of breath.

"Very well Mr. Reese, I'll be in touch." He limped towards the front door then stopped. "I almost forgot. There is another suitcase for you in the closet of the master bedroom Joss. I found some of your things that were left here the last time…I thought they might be useful."

More clothes? Maybe she wouldn't need to go shopping after all. "Yes they will, thank you." She slid the deadbolt out of place and leaned against the open door while he passed by. "Will we see you Thursday?"

"I wouldn't miss it." Dragging a reluctant Bear with him, he headed for the elevator. They waited quietly until the doors slid shut, then locked themselves in again.

"We should get going too," John reminded her.

"Okay, let me grab my things." She darted into the back bedroom on her sore ankle, and hefted the surprisingly heavy case onto its wheels to pull it through the door when a picture frame lying face down on the nightstand caught her attention.

Peeking over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, she picked up the heavy silver frame and flipped it over. One hand flew to her mouth to catch her startled gasp. It was a picture of John and her - one of only two they had ever taken - at a fundraiser for a wounded veteran's charity the week before her 'death'. They had posed as a wealthy couple looking for a worthy cause to donate their millions to; and despite chasing a pair of assassins - a husband and wife team - around the hotel in a pair of five-inch heels for three hours, it was one of the best nights of her life.

After Fusco carted the Mr. and Mrs. off to jail, they had sat down to eat what was left of their dessert before spending an ungodly amount of Finch's money at the silent auction. Harold, working undercover as a magazine photographer that evening, had not seemed to mind though. He had even snapped this picture of them hanging out at the edge of the dance floor, waiting for the band to return from a break.

Joss let her eyes roam over the candid snapshot, taking in their wide, genuine smiles. Her hand was resting on John's chest, and laughter filled his deep blue eyes. The rich emerald fabric of her dress seemed to shimmer under the lights of the ballroom while John looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored tuxedo and fitted white dress shirt that gaped open at the neck, his bowtie dangling untied under the collar. He was partly turned towards her, away from the camera, with one arm wrapped snuggly around her waist to anchor her to his side. She had kicked off those killer heels by then - she could see the dark green straps dangling from his fingers at the edge of the photo - so she barely reached his shoulders, and her hair, finally freed from the pins and combs she'd swept it up with, fell across her bare shoulders in loose waves.

She couldn't get over how happy they looked. Nothing was forced or faked. They weren't playing a part for the sake of their undercover assignment; they were just close friends who were completely comfortable with each other and where their relationship was headed.

A huge part of her wondered if they would ever find their way back to that place. Someday she hoped, but not any time soon.

She set the picture back on the nightstand then hesitated, biting down on her lower lip while she debated taking it with her. Harold had given her a copy the day after the fundraiser, and she had tucked it away in a lockbox on the top shelf of her closet with other keepsakes she had collected over the years - a homemade Mother's Day card from Taylor, a dried rose from her wedding bouquet, her father's pocket watch, memorial cards for friends she had lost along the way. Lord only knew where that box had ended up. Speaking of which, the last time she had seen this picture was at John's loft. How did it wind up here at the safe house? Had he -

"Joss?" The sound of his voice coming down the hallway startled her. "Everything okay back here?"

"Yes, I'm just uh repacking a few things." She hastily shoved the picture - frame and all - into the front pocket of the suitcase and zipped it up seconds before he entered the room.

"Ready?"

More than he could possibly know. She scooped up her purse while John carried her bag out and activated the alarm system. Outside he ushered her to the car with a firm hand on the small of her back. She sensed him scanning the deserted sidewalks on both sides of the street, on alert for a possible attack.

Almost an hour passed with only the radio and the slap of the windshield wipers to break the silence. Neither of them seemed to feel the need to talk, which was fine with her. The snowfall had picked up again, doubling the time it usually took to get out of the city; but they were able to make up for it once they reached the freshly plowed highways. If their luck held, they could be there in forty-five minutes or less. Forty-five minutes and her baby would be back in her arms. Forty-five minutes left to decide how she was going to explain all of this to her family.

Joss kept her eyes trained on the snow-covered fields whooshing by, but the view was the last thing on her mind. She was busy running through her speech, this time with a few additions she had made after her last three reunions. Nothing had gone as planned so far, but she had to remember that Taylor and her mom loved her. They would understand and welcome her home with open arms.

Thinking otherwise was too painful.

"Want to talk about it?" The question broke through her jumbled thoughts.

"Is it that obvious?" She sagged against her seat and angled her head to meet his steady gaze. Instead of answering he merely raised an eyebrow at her then turned back to change lanes and pass the car in front of them.

"I'm scared," she finally admitted, mentally counting the number of times she had used that word recently to describe herself. She cringed at the total she came up with. That was not her; she had never been indecisive or afraid of a challenge. She had taken on terrorists, mob bosses, street thugs and corrupt cops without batting an eye. Even as a little girl she had looked out for the weaker kids and stood up to the bullies on the playground, yet the possibility of losing her family and friends terrified her. They were her foundation, their love and support gave her the courage to do her job and be as fearless as she was. She had just spent two miserable years without them, and the thought that she might be rejected or worse…"What if they don't want to see me?" she whispered.

"You can't think like that." John reached for her hand, her heart stuttering when he pressed a warm kiss on her knuckles. "This is your mom and Taylor. It won't be easy; but having you back in their lives is more important than hurt feelings. They love you too much to waste this second chance."

"But today, with Fusco -"

"They love you." He drew her hand to his lips again, effectively cutting off her argument. His eyes darted between the driver's side and rearview mirror then settled on her. "Trust me Joss, that's enough."

How could he be so sure? She wished she felt even a tenth of his confidence; yet with each mile that brought them closer to Newburgh she couldn't stop imagining all the ways this could end - most of them bad. "Have you ever tried to go home?" she asked partly to distract herself from her thoughts, and partly out of genuine curiosity.

Shadows darkened the blue in his eyes before he looked away to check the rearview mirror again. He was so quiet she thought he was ignoring the question; but after he laced his fingers through hers and sped up to maneuver through the slower traffic around them he answered. "Once, last year," he said hoarsely. "I was trying to find myself, and I had hoped going home would help."

"What happened?"

"I couldn't go through with it. I walked up to the front door to ring the bell, and I froze." He swallowed hard and stared straight ahead, but she could tell his mind wasn't on the road.

Her heart broke for him. She was all too familiar with those paralyzing emotions, and they must have been especially intense after being away for so many years. Joss rubbed her thumb across the side of his hand, grateful he was there for her now and wishing she could have done the same for him.

"Guess I was scared too." His bittersweet chuckle didn't fool her. "I stood on the front porch thinking about every bad thing that might happen to my family if - when - my past caught up with me again…I couldn't put them through that. I decided they were better off believing that I was dead so I…I left."

"John," she murmured, unsure what to say. Trying to have this conversation while driving through the snow in the middle of nowhere sucked. She wanted to hit him and argue that his family deserved to know the truth. She wanted to hug him and tell him she understood - perhaps more than anyone else - the thoughts that had run through his head in that moment.

"By the time I made it back to my car, the door opened. It was Ellie, my oldest sister."

She was fairly certain she knew what happened next, but still asked, "Did you go back?"

"No. I drove straight to the airport and bought a ticket for the first flight to New York." He let his breath out slowly and nodded as if agreeing with his thoughts. "I don't think she even recognized me."

Seeing the tears gathered in his eyes made hers fall. Joss tugged his hand towards her and pressed her own kiss to his knuckles. She promised herself that one day he would go back, and she would be right there by his side when he did.

"She's your sister John, she recognized you. Ellie might have been too shocked to react."

The rigid set to his shoulders told her he wasn't as convinced. "Maybe. But just because I couldn't go home, doesn't mean you can't." He exited the highway to take a lesser traveled rural road and tapped his earpiece to answer a call. "I'll be there in thirty Shaw."

She was unprepared when the car abruptly accelerated, and had to grip the door handle to keep from sliding across the leather seat as John careened around a corner at the four-way stop. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from plucking the earpiece out and taking over the call when he bit out, "What kind of trouble?"

The cop in her knew better than to distract him, but Sam was with her baby. She needed to know what was going on. "John?" she whispered.

"How long have they been there?" He pulled another hard turn onto a second back road and reached out to touch the fist clenched tightly in her lap.

Oh God. Had Yogorov found out where her mom lived? Was he coming after her family to get to her? Suddenly her nightmare felt more like a premonition than a bad dream; but she refused to let it end that way. This time she would kill him with her bare hands before she let him hurt the people she loved.

"Fine. Call me when they leave."

Joss waited expectantly, her heart still pounding out of her chest, for some kind of answer when she felt the car slowing down to a safer speed. Something was wrong, so why -

"The FBI is at your mom's house," he said calmly, but there was no disguising the tension, the irritation bleeding through. "Moss and a team of agents showed up this morning asking questions. They're searching the grounds now."

She released the breath she had been holding and relaxed, if only a little, into her seat. "What could they possibly be looking for all the way out here?"

"They were probably hoping you would be there. The Russian Mob destroyed your apartment and you are nowhere to be found. Then when they called and you didn't answer your phone…"

Yeah, that was partly her fault. While they were busy escaping there had not been time to grab any of her things, much less the suitcase holding her cell phone charger. The darn thing had died before they made it back to the loft, and with everything else going on charging it had been the last thing on her mind. Once she settled in at her mom's she would borrow one for the old-school flip phone and check in with Ben.

The thought of calling him put her on edge. She wasn't hiding from him exactly; more like avoiding what she knew would be an uncomfortable conversation a little while longer. After yesterday's attack Ben would insist on placing her in protective custody until Yogorov was arrested; and while she had nothing but respect for the man, she wasn't about to let him drag her halfway across the country again before she even had a chance to tell her family she was alive…or had Moss already let that secret slip?

"Do they know?" It might be easier to have someone else tell them, but she did not want Taylor or her mom to find out that way.

"No." John rubbed a hand over his jaw, and his frown deepened. "Shaw said Moss was asking about a homicide you worked several years ago. Supposedly the FBI found a new lead and wanted to look through your things for any files or notes you kept."

More than likely, they were looking for an address or a lead on her hide out - not that her personal belongings would help. Everything work related was in that safe deposit box, and she never kept anything that could lead back to Harold or John. There was nothing to worry about, Moss was not the bad guy; yet she couldn't stop the nervous flutter she felt at his unexpected visit.

Silence stretched between them, and she turned to stare out the window at the familiar countryside as it passed by. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken this particular shortcut, but she could drive it blindfolded if needed. In fact, if John took the next left up ahead they could cut out another ten minutes. Sure, it was a dirt road and there was a chance they could get stuck, but she was willing to risk it.

"Turn there by that old windmill." She raised her arm and pointed out the windshield at a stand of trees just behind a windmill that had definitely seen better days. "The road is a little rough, but the time it saves us will make up for it."

"I thought the plan was to avoid Moss," John remarked dryly as he drove past the dirt and gravel road.

Joss pressed her lips together and refused to let go of the irritated sigh building in her lungs. Yes the plan was to avoid the FBI - for now - but the constant delays and surprises were so damn frustrating, especially now when they were practically there. Still, she had waited this long, what was another twenty minutes?

She drummed her fingers against the leather covering the doorframe and tried to relax while she willed Shaw to call with an update. They had missed the first short cut, but in half a mile there was another road that looped around the outskirts of Newburgh, and passed directly behind her mom's house. On a day like today, traffic would be non-existent. They could easily circle back and park along the fence line to wait out Moss. "We could take Limestone Road around the edge of town then out to my mom's. It runs right behind the fence on the north side of the yard."

"I know Carter, I've driven up here a time or two myself," he said flatly.

This time she did sigh, loudly enough that it caught John's attention. His gaze snapped to hers and an apologetic smile twisted his lips. "Hey." His hand closed around her arm, and she could feel the warmth of his fingers through her sweater and coat. "Taylor and your mom are safe. I would not have left them if I didn't believe that."

She nodded then closed her eyes to take in a cleansing breath. When she felt the car slow down enough to swing around a corner, she looked up at him. "It couldn't hurt to get there a little early," he shrugged in explanation. "But for the record, no one likes a backseat driver Joss."

Heaven help her. Even after two years apart, he still had the ability to piss her off one minute and make her melt in the next. "I'll try to control myself," she muttered and found herself nodding again. "At the risk of sounding like some sort of armchair general, how do you plan to avoid the FBI once we get there?"

"They won't see us unless I want them too," he said matter-of-factly.

Of course they wouldn't. But it turned out there was no need to create a plan or hide in the shadows. Ten minutes later Shaw called with the all clear. The FBI had packed up and moved out with little more than a thank you.

The yard was empty, quiet when they finally pulled up next to another black sedan from Finch's fleet. Joss sat with her fingers wrapped around the door handle, studying the tire tracks and footprints marring the pristine snow that blanketed the grass and fields surrounding the two-story farmhouse. She couldn't help thinking how different it all looked now in the light of day than it had in the moonlight the night before last. And just like then, she felt as if she were father from home than she had ever been in Phoenix. Movement near the top step of the front porch caused her heart to thump relentlessly in her chest. She lifted her eyes in time to see Shaw descend the steps and approach the car.

Whether she opened her door or John - who at some point he had gotten out of the car and come around to her side - opened it for her, she didn't know. The bite of the cold air seeping into the car shook her from her stupor, and she climbed out to face the young woman she had once thought of as a friend. Her feet sank into the mixture of snow and mud around the tires, and for a second she imagined it was sucking her in like quicksand.

"Well I'll be damned," the throaty murmur was barely audible over the gust of wind that pelted them with bits of snow. There was no missing the flicker of surprise that crossed her delicate features when she met them on the sidewalk. "Welcome back Carter," Shaw ducked her head briefly and greeted her with as much warmth as she was likely capable of.

Joss read the doubts, the flash of hopefulness in her dark eyes, and was reminded of the night they met at the safe house before heading to the club, when Sam had eagerly shown off her Nano and offered to let her borrow it. A hug, she guessed, would make the petite woman uncomfortable, so she settled on a handshake instead. She clasped her elbow through the black thermal shirt she wore, and felt Shaw's fingers digging in to her arm too, as if to verify that what she was seeing was real.

"Thank you Sam, it is really good to be home."

There were other questions - how, when, why - but thankfully she didn't voice them. She stepped aside to let them pass. "Your mom's in the kitchen, Taylor is upstairs."

Woodenly she climbed the steps, but froze when she reached the front door. This was it. After two years and two days that felt just as long, she was finally home. Nothing had gone as planned from the moment she stepped out of that cab in Sunset Park, yet standing here now it didn't matter. She sucked in a deep breath and glanced around the porch, trying to take in as much as her nerves would allow.

"They love you Joss," John whispered roughly against her ear. His large, steady hand squeezed hers before he pulled the screen door back to hold it open for her.

Emotion swelled in her chest, and she swallowed hard in an effort to contain it. "Thank you," she said softly then squared her shoulders and pushed the heavier wooden door open to step inside. He was right, her family loved her, they would understand. The waiting was over.

Her eyes tracked over the spacious living room, trying to absorb every familiar sight and sound. She made it as far as the couch before she stopped. With one hand braced on the upholstered arm, she slowly spun around and let her senses take over. Small details jumped out at her - the cheery warmth radiating from the fireplace, the new curtains framing the windows and old family pictures hanging on the walls, the smells of rich coffee and chocolate cake coming from the kitchen, the small upright piano tucked into one corner, and the gentle tick of the grandfather clock on the other side of the room.

God, she didn't realized how much she missed this place until now.

"John is that you?" her mom called out from the kitchen. "Sam told me you were coming out this morning to talk to me."

Her throat worked furiously to clear the tears that were strangling her, and preventing her words from coming out as anything other than shallow pants. She had only taken two steps forward when the door swung open and Sarah Lawrence pushed her way through carrying a tray loaded down with a coffee pot, cups, silverware, and slices of cake.

"I made some of that choc-" Sarah gasped sharply, and her eyes widened in what could only be shock and disbelief an instant before the tray fell to the floor with a terrible clatter. One shaking hand flew to her mouth to stifle her scream, while the other clutched at her heart.

"Mama!" Joss rushed to catch her as she stumbled into the wall behind her, sending both of them sliding down the clean white paneling to land in a puddle of spilled coffee. Bits of broken serving plates and mugs dug into her thigh when she tried to pull away but her mom refused to let go.

"My baby," Sarah cried, pressing kisses against the side of her face, the top of her head. "My precious baby girl. You're home."

An all-consuming sense of relief poured through her with every word, and bubbled over in a mix of tears and breathless laughter. Joss smiled as she sniffled back another sob and hugged her mom closer. "I am Mama. I'm finally here," her voice broke under the weight of the emotions bearing down on her. There was more she wanted to say; but for now that reassurance - that promise - was enough.

Overhead, heavy footsteps pounded across the ceiling towards the second story landing. Joss knew who it was before his panicked shout reached them, and her pulse spiked in response.

"Grandma! Are you okay?" The sound of his voice - deeper, stronger, more like his father's - brought on another watery smile. She twisted awkwardly in her mother's arms and looked up in time to see his tennis shoes stop short on the bottom tread of the stairs. Had she been standing at that moment, her legs would have given out on her at the sight of her little dude, now a not-so-little man.

"Taylor!" The breathless cry was the best she could do after two seemingly endless years apart. Everything else she had planned on saying deserted her the second he entered the room.

He was so close. The achy feeling returned, and the need to hold him spread through her arms. She had seen him the other night through the living room window, but this was different. There was nothing between them now to prevent her from hugging him, from telling him how much she had missed him and had never stopped thinking about him. Hot tears blurred his handsome face and she quickly blinked them away, refusing to let even those get in her way.

"Mom?" He struggled to get the word out, and pain knifed through her at the confusion she heard in that one syllable. She could only imagine the thoughts running through his mind right now.

Slowly, with strength she was not sure she possessed, Joss pushed to her feet and took several steps forward. Taylor countered each one, blindly feeling his way around the banister to sidle towards the door, careful to keep enough space between them. He glanced uncertainly at her, then at John and Sam who were likely hovering somewhere behind her. Her heart sank at how lost he looked, how scared….God, her son was afraid of her!

"Taylor, baby, it's okay." Tentatively she reached for him as she picked her way through the mess littering the floor. She knew she should wait, give him the chance to come to her; but the need to hold him was too strong. Without a second thought, she closed the distance between them to wrap her arms around her little boy who was now almost a foot taller than she was. To her immense relief she felt him relax against her; and just like her mom had done earlier, Joss cried softly while she peppered the side of his face with kisses. "I love you…so much," she sobbed.

Well before she was ready to let him go, Taylor pulled away. "I don't - I don't understand. John told us you had been shot…" Accusation flared in his eyes. He shook his head and took another step back. "…that you were dead."

"I can explain T." She gripped his hands in hers and led him to the couch, willing him to give her a chance to do just that.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sam picking up the larger pieces of broken glass while John helped her mom to her feet. He made sure Sarah was seated on the cushion next to Taylor then turned away to clean up, but not before exchanging looks with her. The question he wasn't asking aloud was obvious. He would stay if she asked him - and part of her wanted to - but this was something she needed to do alone.

She touched the hand resting on her forearm, hoping he understood how grateful she was for his support. If the slight dip of his head was any indication, he did.

John quietly helped Sam scoop up the silverware and cracked coffee pot, then carried it all into the kitchen. Once the door swung shut behind them, Joss lowered herself onto the seat next to Taylor and reached for him again.

"That night, when I was shot, some friends of mine at the FBI were near by," the words tumbled out as if she were afraid he would change his mind and leave at any second. "They rushed me to a hospital and saved my life, but the man who tried to kill me was still out there. He was not going to stop coming after me until I was dead, and I wasn't willing to risk either of you getting hurt - or worse - because of me."

She pressed her lips together, remembering how hard it had been to make that decision. In the end, the safety of the people she loved had mattered more. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "We thought it would be best for everyone if I disappeared for a while, which meant letting you believe that I was dead - just until this man and the people who worked for him were caught."

Her mom plucked a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed under her eyes, but Taylor's brow wrinkled as he yanked his hand away. "So you've been what - hiding out this whole time? You couldn't have called to tell us what was going on?"

"I couldn't Tay, it was too dangerous -"

"Too dangerous? Come on mom, I'm not a kid anymore. I have always known that your job was dangerous, I just didn't realize it was more important to you than me."

She had anticipated Taylor feeling hurt, but now that she was there, sitting in her mom's living room struggling to find the right words to reach him, she felt like she was staring at a familiar stranger. He was her little boy, she loved him unconditionally; yet the man in front of her was angry, his guard was up, and there was no trace of warmth in the dark brown eyes scowling back at her. "No, that's not it at all. You know that I love you more than anything in this world. I was protecting you."

"Protecting me?" Taylor asked incredulously. "I needed you mom, not your protection." He flinched and shook off her attempt to touch him. "I thought you had finally realized that you had friends you could count on - Fusco, Harold, Sam, John. Any one of them would have gladly dropped everything to help you take this guy down…but you chose to abandon us instead of admitting you couldn't do that on your own."

Her heart crumpled when he shot to his feet and raced up the stairs two at a time. "Taylor wait!" She jumped up to follow, but a sudden burst of lightheadedness caused her knees to buckle. Her mom caught her arm and guided her back to the couch.

"Sit down before you fall down honey." She let herself be pulled into a comforting hug, and buried her head against her mom's shoulder. "He'll come around after the shock wears off Joss, give him some time."

"How could possibly think my job was more important to me?" she whispered through her tears. She had sacrificed so much; how could he not see how much she loved him?

"Trust me darlin' he knows the truth; but this is a huge shock for him - for all of us." The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence that followed. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart when her mom drew back to frame her face between her two wrinkled hands. "You are a damn fine police officer Jocelyn Elizabeth Lawrence Carter. What you did took a great deal of courage, and I could not be more proud."

Joss was stunned. Not once since her return had anyone said anything like that to her. As much as she wanted to argue she couldn't, she was too grateful. "Thank you Mama." She leaned in for another hug.

"Why don't I put on another pot of coffee so we can talk more? I think we could both use a drink, but that's the strongest thing I have - the ladies from church were over for cards last weekend."

"No, stay. I'll make it." She rose and started for the kitchen, thankful for the excuse to duck outside for a moment to regroup.

"I see you finally decided to ditch the mountain man look."

John didn't bother answering as he rinsed the last glob of chocolate frosting from his fingertips and dried his hands on the towel next to the sink. They had cleaned up as much of the mess as they could before retreating to the kitchen, leaving the rest until after Joss and Taylor finished talking…which probably wouldn't be much longer.

He pulled two clean mugs out of the dishwasher and listened to the young man's accusations, muffled slightly by the kitchen door.

"…You couldn't have called to tell us what was going on?…I've always known your job was dangerous, I just didn't realize it was more important to you than me."

He understood why Taylor was angry with his mom, but he couldn't be further from the truth. Joss was a mother first, cop second. If it were at all possible, she would have contacted her family before now.

Even as the thought ran through his mind, his brows drew together. A little over twenty-four hours ago, he had asked her the same question in a very similar tone. And now…he still found it difficult to reconcile his feelings about everything that had happened over the last two years - hell the last two days - yet he felt a strange need to defend her to anyone who doubted her story.

"I'm guessing the news was a surprise to you too?" Shaw asked filling the spare coffee pot she had found in one of the cabinets with water.

That was the understatement of a lifetime; and judging by the sound of a door slamming upstairs it was a surprise to Taylor as well. He took two steps towards the living room then hesitated. Part of him wanted to rush in there and rescue her, but this was something Joss needed to navigate on her own. That didn't mean he couldn't be there for her though, or offer her a shoulder to lean on…as long as he didn't let himself get carried away like he had this morning. Touching her had been a mistake - a fucking perfect mistake - one he wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from repeating in the future.

"How are you handling all of this?"

Badly was the first word that came to mind as he sat down at the kitchen table. He was more on edge than usual, and his self-control was hanging by a thread that was unraveling quickly. Haunted by old memories and new nightmares, he had barely slept last night, afraid he would wake up and Joss would be gone. That her homecoming was just part of some elaborate dream. And when he had heard her screaming this morning…

But Shaw was the last person he wanted to discuss that with. He didn't want to talk about how hard it was to have Joss so close while trying to keep his distance, emotionally at least. He didn't want to admit that despite his anger at being lied to for so long he cared about her - a lot.

"My hair is too short to braid, but we could always paint our nails while we talk about our feelings," he deflected. It was an old tactic, an obvious attempt to change the subject, but a good one.

Shaw pressed on, not letting his unresponsiveness deter her. "What? You and Finch are always on my ass to soften up a little. I'm just doing what I'm told"

"That'll be the day," he thought irritably. Grudgingly he conceded that she did have a point; but he wanted her to be friendlier to their numbers, not him.

She dumped a heaping spoonful of sugar into the mug he handed her and sat down in the chair opposite him. "What I really want to know is how will Barbie take the news that your 'just a friend' is back from the dead."

John was tempted to smirk at her latest nickname for Zoe. In all honesty, she had not crossed his mind once in the last few days; and he even if he should, he didn't care what she thought. Their arrangement had ended well before Joss' death, and the last time Zoe had worked a number with them she had barely spoken to him - not that he could blame her, calling out another woman's name during sex always made things awkward.

Thinking about that disastrous night last November still made him wince. It had been his fault, and although there were a number of legitimate excuses he could use - it was the first anniversary of Joss' death, he had been hurting, drinking all day, trying to forget for even one damn minute that she was gone - he wouldn't. Zoe had not accepted his sloppy apologies either after he realized what he had done. She had dressed as quickly as possible in the darkness of his motel room before storming out and ignoring Harold's calls for the next nine months.

Again not something he wanted to talk about with Shaw.

He was about to avoid the subject altogether by suggesting she drive back to the city and meet up with Harold, when the kitchen door swung open. Joss hurried through then immediately slumped against the doorframe with a deep sigh. Her eyes were closed and she was rubbing at her temples, clumps of mascara staining her cheeks.

"God how do I fix this?" she whispered.

Instinctively he pushed away from the table, a movement that drew her startled gaze across the room. She blinked several times then swiped at the tears lingering on her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she sniffled. "I - I didn't realize y'all were in here. I'm just gonna…" One hand fluttered at her side then gestured at the back door. "Excuse me."

John debated giving her a moment of privacy, but the pain he saw in her eyes when she rushed past ended that argument. The legs of his chair scraped the floor when he bumped it back under the table with an order to Shaw. "Head back to the library in case Finch needs backup at his meeting with Elias."

"What will you be doing?"

He ignored her pointed look and stepped out on the back porch to go after Joss. She hadn't gone far; he found her standing on the top step, leaning against a thick square post. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her hunched shoulders were shivering in the face of a bitter north wind. She looked so fragile, so lost, that it rattled him.

Before he realized what he was doing, his coat was off and he was standing behind her draping it over her shoulders. He drew her into his arms, not caring about keeping his distance. No matter how jumbled his feelings were, he couldn't stand to see her hurting.

Joss tensed, then curled in to him and dropped her head to his chest. An unsteady sob escaped her as his palm slid down her back then up again to cradle her small body to him. "Tell me what's wrong," he urged softly.

"Taylor hates me," she mumbled into his shirt.

He knew he should have tried harder, but he couldn't stop the huff of laughter that snuck past him. The idea that Taylor hated her was ridiculous no matter what the young man said earlier. "Joss -"

"It's not funny John." She slapped at his chest and struggled to pull away. "And if that's how you feel about it you can just go to -"

"Now wait a minute." He gripped the tops of her arms and held her back to look her in the eye. "Yes I do think that's funny because I know how much your son loves you. You've got a better chance of being named the sole heir to Finch's billions than you do of Taylor hating you."

The corners of her mouth quirked in a brief grin then slipped into a frown. Her hand flattened over his chest, but she didn't push him away this time. "You didn't see his face John -"

"No, but I have watched him grieve for you these last two years." He almost regretted the harsh words when he saw her flinch. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then pressed on. "Taylor loves you. He wouldn't trade having you back for anything, trust me. Give him some time, he'll come around."

"My mom said the same thing."

"She's a smart lady." He winked, hoping to draw another smile out of her.

It worked for a few seconds until her mouth firmed into a thin line. He watched her dark lashes fan out against her cheeks as she looked down at the buttons on his shirt. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet he almost missed it. "You hate me."

Hate her? Maybe he should, certainly no one would blame him if he did feel that way. And with the way he had been acting the last two days, he could see why she might think that; but he didn't. Not even a little. They had argued a time or two since he found her in the cemetery; but he could not be happier that she was home. He had all but resigned himself to living the rest of his life without her, and now that she was back…

"Look at me," he said softly. He cupped her cheek, lightly sweeping his thumb over the faint bruise there while he waited. When she did, the faint spark of hope shining in her eyes delivered a direct hit to his resistance. "I do not hate you Joss. Things between us are complicated, but I care about you. Don't ever doubt that."

"Seems like everything is complicated these days," she mumbled, then took a deep breath and lifted her chin before deliberately changing the subject. "Thank you for driving me out here this morning. Maybe you could come back Thursday for Thanksgiving dinner?"

"Who said I was leaving?" The threat from the Russians was real and required his full attention; but even in the absence of any danger, he was not leaving her.

"There are other people that need -"

"You are the only one I'm concerned with." Not ready to let her go yet, John dropped a hand to the lapels of his coat when he saw her shiver. He tugged them closer together over her sweater, staring at the bit of purple peeking out from under the black wool. He could easily put an end to this awkwardness right now by telling her how he really felt. That he more than cared about her. But this wasn't the right time. They needed to find Yogorov first and eliminate the threat. They could talk about what they wanted, where this was going later. Until then he needed to focus on keeping her safe. Nothing else. "I meant what I said last night, I can't lose you again."

He could feel Joss watching him; and when he looked up at her beautiful face he was confronted by a familiar pull, the one that always drew him to her. Only her. Damn it, he couldn't afford to be distracted right now, not when her life hung in the balance; but how could something so wrong feel so right?

Slowly, John lowered his head to brush a kiss against her lips - just one quick kiss he promised himself - when the hinges on the back door whined.

"Jocelyn?" Sarah stuck her head out, apparently realizing a second too late what she had interrupted. She shot him an apologetic smile and held her cell phone out, mute button activated. "I'm sorry, there's an Agent Falcon calling for you. I didn't tell him you were here, but I thought it might be important."

"Thanks mom," Joss sighed. She patted him on the chest, then stepped aside to take the call, slipping his coat off as she passed. "I should talk to him."

He didn't agree, but nodded and watched her walk inside the house. When the screen door slammed shut behind her he tromped down the steps, deciding to take a long look around. He needed to make sure the FBI hadn't left any presents behind; but more importantly, he needed to remove himself from the temptation of eavesdropping on Joss' conversation with Special Agent Falcon.

"Carter," she groused.

Her rational side knew she could not put off talking to him for much longer, but Ben couldn't have picked a worse time to call if he tried. And how the hell did he know she was here?

She shut the door to the study firmly behind her and sank into the worn leather chair facing a desk cluttered with receipts, pens, a laptop, calculator, random bits of paper, and a pile of rubber bands. Through the window she watched John stalk across the yard, heading towards the detached garage and tool shed on the other side of the house. Was he just being cautious and checking things out, or had something caught his attention?

"Joss? Oh thank God," Ben sighed heavily. "It is good to hear your voice. When Moss told me what happened, that he couldn't find you, I was afraid Yogorov had taken you - or worse. Your number kept going to voicemail, so I decided to try your mom's phone next."

"I'm sorry I didn't call sooner. Things got a little hectic yesterday, but I am fine. I've decided to stay with a friend for a while," she lied. It wasn't a matter of trusting him; she just didn't want the FBI getting too close to her family - especially Harold and John.

"Don't worry, you won't need to. I've already drafted your reassignment paperwork. It will be on Moss' desk by this afternoon."

"Reassignment paperwork?" That couldn't mean what she thought it did. She had told him - repeatedly - that she was not going back.

"I got the first flight out of Sky Harbor that I could this morning," he continued. "Tell me where you are and I can get a team of agents to your location. Moss said you weren't at your mom's house but -"

"That is really not necessary. I'm perfectly safe where I am."

"Yogorov is coming after you Joss. You know what he's capable of, and he won't stop until he kills you." He lowered his voice to that deep, calming tone he had used on her more than once during the last two years. "After everything you did to help the Bureau take down HR, I won't have any trouble getting you back in to Witness Security -"

"No," she forcefully cut him off. "We have gone over this Ben. I am not leaving my family again." She thought of Taylor who was sitting in his room, angry and alone, believing she had chosen her job over him.

"…we need your help. We've been trying to get Yogorov for years, but he always manages to escape justice. You could change that Joss."

"I sincerely doubt that." She picked up a handful of rubber bands and let them fall from her fingertips to create an even messier pile. "He's coming after me for personal reasons, not because I have evidence that could put him away."

"Still it's an opportunity," he argued. "Something we don't get too many of where he's concerned."

An opportunity? She understood what he meant, but the term made her uncomfortable, like she was just bait for the trap. Normally that wouldn't bother her, but there were other factors to consider now, like the possibility of her family getting hurt or that she wasn't even a cop any more. She also wasn't lying in a hospital bed, scared and fighting for her life this time. His concerns were valid, but she was not going to let him push her around.

"I appreciate the offer Ben. I'll tell you everything I can; but I am done with WITSEC."

"Attention ladies and gentlemen. We are now ready to board American Airlines flight 2795, with non-stop service from Phoenix Sky Harbor to LaGuardia. At this time we ask that all passengers with priority boarding status please begin…"

"Look that's my flight so I need to go. Please at least think about what I said. We should meet up soon, talk about this face to face."

There was nothing more to say, yet she knew he would not let this go easily. At least if she met with him she could make sure he knew her return to witness security was out of the question.

"Fine," she grudgingly agreed. "I'll be in the city tomorrow, we can talk then."

He sounded decidedly relieved when he promised to call once he was settled at his hotel to shore up the details. She ended the call and tossed her mom's phone onto a stack of gardening magazines with a groan. Just when she thought she was free to start over something else came along to ruin it. Not this time though. Nothing was more important than her family, her baby boy. She was not leaving, and if her friends still wanted to help she would welcome their support.

Joss left the study and wandered back to the living room expecting to find her mom or Shaw there, but the room was deserted. The leftover puddles of coffee and bits of glass had been cleaned up, her purse was sitting on an end table, and her coat - she didn't remember taking it off - was neatly folded and draped over the back of the couch. She trailed her fingers along the frames of several pictures lining the walls, until they came into contact with the smooth wood of the banister. She gripped the handrail tightly and peered up at the second floor landing, contemplating knocking on Taylor's door to see if he felt like talking. Nearly thirty minutes had passed since he had rushed up to his room, maybe he'd had enough time to cool down and was ready to listen…then again talking to him now might just push him further away.

Deciding to give him space, she limped towards the kitchen, exhausted and feeling every bump and bruise her body had collected over the last two days. She was passing by the large bay window when another idea crossed her mind. The snow on the ground was deep, but not so heavy she couldn't dig through it to look for her bracelet. She was certain she knew where it had fallen off at, she just needed to retrace her steps, and with a little bit of luck it would be back on her wrist before lunch.

Joss snatched her coat off the couch and pushed through the kitchen door, then paused when she found her mom sitting at the table, a new cup of coffee in hand and four different photo albums spread out on the table.

"Going somewhere baby girl?" Sarah eyed the coat in her hand suspiciously.

"I was thinking I would keep Shaw company for a while."

"Sam left not too long ago. Said she needed to head back to the city to run some errands for Mr. Finch."

"Oh, okay." She could only imagine what kind of 'errands' were on Harold's list. "Um where's John?" A stronger gust of wind buffeted the row of windows overlooking the side yard and she glanced as casually could in that direction, expecting to see him walk across the porch.

"He said something about checking on a section of the fence down by the road. One of those old posts must have blown over again." Her mom patted the cushion of the seat next to her. That was when Joss noticed the extra mug on the table - her favorite, the one she always drank out of when she visited - filled to the brim and waiting for her. "Have a seat here by me."

So much for her plans to search for her bracelet, not that she wanted to now. It could wait a little while longer, spending time with her mom was more important.

She hung her coat on a peg near the back door and sat down. The second she finished scooting her chair up to the table, she was enveloped in a breath-stealing hug. The chair's unyielding rails dug in to her side, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her mom's hugs were worth the momentary discomfort.

"I keep thinking this is all a dream," Sarah said with a shake of her head as she leaned back. "That I'll wake up at any second and you'll be gone."

"I'm here Mama, and I'm not going anywhere."

"Is it really over?" she asked, braced to hear the answer good or bad. "Some agents from the FBI dropped by earlier, and now this Agent Falcon is calling me looking for you -"

"Everything is fine, I promise." Despite understanding why she had made the decisions she had and being proud of her, there was no hiding the fact that her mom had been hurt too. She was scared, and Joss didn't want to add to those fears by telling her about the reason for the FBI's sudden appearance, the threat from Yogorov. Her only hope was that he would be arrested soon so she could move on with her life. She kissed her mom's cheek then sat back with an overly bright smile. "Now what is all of this?"

"You know how sentimental I get around the holidays." Sarah gave a watery laugh when she hummed in agreement, and tucked a long strand of gray hair behind her ear. "Well, I dug these out of the basement while you were on the phone. Thought it might be fun to look through some old pictures."

Joss flipped open the leather covered album closest to her and groaned. "I can't believe you still have these."

Her mom added another dollop of cream to her mug as they started pouring over each page one by one.

Elias was doing this on purpose. The bastard.

His patience wearing thin, Harold glanced at the dark green face of his Rolex for the fifth time as he paced away from the warmth of the fireplace. After calling twice to reschedule, and pushing their meeting back until early afternoon, Elias was now making him wait even longer just because he could.

Everything was a game to his old chess partner. He loved to manipulate his opponents, to show who was in control - or at least who thought he was in control - with annoying tactics like this one. However, Harold was not in the mood to play, not today.

He tugged the cuff of his suit jacket back in place, and crossed the surprisingly modest living room to join Ms. Shaw at the window facing the front walk. The four-hour delay had allowed her to make it back from Newburgh in time to join him after all - John must be having quite a laugh about that - yet he had to admit that despite his earlier protests that he would be fine going alone, he felt better having her accompany him. They could never be too careful when Elias was involved.

Patience, however had never been Sameen Shaw's strongest virtue; and if the irritated expression on her face meant anything, she had reached the end of what little she did possess. She was more alert and edgier than normal; and he feared that if something didn't happen soon, he would have to protect the mob boss and his bodyguards from her.

Harold leaned one shoulder against the wall and pretended to watch the cars sliding past on the slushy streets outside while he studied her. She had taken the news of Joss' sudden return and the Russian threat in her usual impassive manner; although he felt he knew her well enough now that he could tell she was happy about the development. She had actually smiled at one point, a genuine smile, not the sarcastic one she usually wore before she shot someone. What had shocked him most was how talkative she was - if the five sentences she had muttered on the drive out to Cobble Hill this afternoon counted as talking.

The change didn't last long though. Now she was back to what he thought of as her old self, the cold, intensely focused woman she had been when they first met. The woman who shot first and asked questions later - if anyone was left alive to answer them.

He opened his mouth to remind her that they were only there to gather information about Peter Yogorov, when the door on the far side of the room creaked open. The first man in, Anthony Marconi, barely acknowledged him before moving to stand toe to toe with Ms. Shaw who had positioned herself in front of him.

"Nice to see you again GI Jane," he said with a lazy grin.

"Scarface," she murmured dryly, his name sounding more like an insult than a greeting. Marconi's smile only grew wider as he stepped aside to make room for his boss.

"Harold, it has been too long my friend." Elias ambled into the room, both hands in his pockets. "Welcome to my little slice of heaven." He pulled one hand out suddenly, and waved it around in a gesture that encompassed the whole room, a move that had Ms. Shaw between them with her gun drawn. "…and I see you brought your little solider with you."

"Elias." He was more reserved with his greeting, not trusting the man even after 'working' with him for nearly five years. In spite of what he might say, Carl Elias was only interested in helping their team if he could benefit in some way, which was why Harold tried to avoid any dealings with him if at all possible. Nevertheless, desperate times like this called for equally desperate measures. If Joss was right and Peter Yogorov was trying to kill her, they had to stop him no matter what the cost. Sarah, Taylor, John. They would not survive losing her again.

"Ms. Shaw, could you give us a minute please." He placed a hand on her elbow and applied enough pressure to draw her attention back to him. He read the disagreement in her cool brown eyes and expected her to argue rather than follow orders, yet she surprised him again.

"I'll be right outside," she said quietly as she crossed the room to follow Marconi out the door. There was no mistaking the underlying warning meant exclusively for Elias.

Both men stared at each other for a long moment after the door closed behind their bodyguards, the crackling fire and the swish of car tires through the melting snow the only sounds breaking the silence. Elias was the first to blink when he turned to extract two glasses and a bottle of scotch from a mini-bar in the corner of the room.

"It is a pleasure to see you again Harold, but I have to say your call last night surprised me."

"It was to me as well." He declined the offered drink with a shake of his head. "I have a question I'm hoping you can answer."

"Well I'm always happy to help you and John." The lines around his eyes deepened behind his glasses as he smiled. He poured a generous portion for himself then settled onto a chair in front of the fire. "So tell me, what can I do for the dream team?"

Forcing his feet to move forward when Elias motioned to the seat opposite his, Harold limped over to the matching leather wingback chair and sat down. He had not wanted to come here, but was left with no other choice since his own efforts to locate Peter Yogorov were leading nowhere. He was also reluctant to divulge why they needed to find the head of the Russian Mob or give out any details about Joss' sudden reappearance. Elias was smart, word would reach him eventually that she was alive; but when it did, would he consider her a friend or an enemy?

"We need your assistance in locating Peter Yogorov."

His friendly smile never faltered, yet Harold detected an unmistakable flicker of interest in Elias' shrewd gaze. "And what business do you have with Mr. Yogorov?"

"A friend of mine is in trouble. I have reason to believe he is responsible for a recent attempt on her life."

Elias took a long drink then crossed one leg over the other, seeming to consider his response. "This source that tells you Peter Yogorov is behind the threats, do you trust it?"

"Implicitly," he answered, although it had taken him some time to reach that conclusion last night. There was more to the story of Joss' absence for the last two years; but he was certain she was not lying about this. Her fear and anger yesterday were real…and so were the bullet holes in her brownstone, and the two dead Russian lieutenants in her living room. "We just want to talk to him. Clear up a little misunderstanding."

"Yes John can be very persuasive, though I'm afraid his usual methods won't be very helpful this time." Elias stretched to set his drink on a side table then steepled his fingers. "You've been duped my friend."

Damn, this wasn't going to be good. Harold held his breath, resisting the urge to drum his fingers against the armrests while he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"Peter Yogorov is dead."

Half a pot of coffee and two albums full of baby pictures, school portraits, and vacation snapshots later, Joss needed a break.

She stretched her sore ankle and pushed away from the table with a promise to be right back, then ducked into the guest bathroom to splash her face with water. The cold droplets felt good and helped to clear her mind. She pressed the cream-colored hand towel against her face and neck, then took a moment to finger comb her hair behind her ears before heading back. When she rounded the corner of the kitchen, she was surprised to find Taylor sitting in the chair next to her mom.

"Hi," she said shyly. It took an extraordinary amount of restraint to stand next to the refrigerator, when every instinct in her body urged her to rush over to the table and squeeze the life out of him. It helped though that her feet were suddenly rooted to the floor, and her hands were clasped together behind her back so tightly she was starting to lose feeling in her fingertips.

"Hey," he answered, sounding more subdued, not as angry as before.

"I can uh, I can go upstairs if you want -" she froze, her thumb pointing over her shoulder to the steps behind her. She was floundering, and hated how lost she felt, unsure how to act around her own son.

"It's okay mom, you don't have to leave. I just came down for some water." His thumb scraped at the label on the plastic bottle in his hand, an absentminded habit that made her smile. "What are you guys doing?"

"We were about to go through some pictures of a prom from the Stone Age," she said getting at least part of the laugh she was hoping for.

"Pull up a chair honey," Sarah encouraged her as she swept imaginary crumbs off the cushion of the seat on her left.

Joss nodded and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge for herself before sitting down at the table again. Taylor was already leafing through a scrapbook overflowing with pictures from her high school and college days. "Wow mom, nice hair." He flipped the page, then grabbed the album and pulled it closer. "Wait, is that dad?"

She leaned over her mom's shoulder to get a better view. "Yup, that's him. Didn't I ever show these to you?"

"No, and I can see why," he smirked.

"Hey that was the style back then young man." She ignored her mom's suggestion of digging her old yearbooks out of the basement, and took a sip of water to cover up the huge grin spreading across her face. "And where are your prom pictures?"

He stammered, and started in with an excuse about boxes in his dorm room while her mom got up from the table and hustled into the living room. She came back seconds later carrying a dark blue binder crammed full of pictures from the past two years. "I've got them right here."

"Grandma," he covered his face with his hands, then reached out to take it from her. "Mom doesn't want to see these."

"Oh yes I do." She was quicker, and pried the book out of his hands. She wanted to start at the beginning and look at every photograph in there, the moments she had missed; but allowed her mom to flip through to a section in the middle.

"…here we are. These were taken at Mr. Finch's house on prom night." Sarah reclaimed her seat and bumped her grandson with her shoulder while Joss carefully studied each picture. She recognized the background as the living room of one of Harold's safe houses near her old apartment. Her eyes lingered on Taylor, his buzzed haircut, the dark suit and …had Finch actually let him out of the house wearing that?

"You looked …well you looked great T." Darn that squeak in her voice. She scanned another picture of Taylor and her mom, then one of his date dressed in…oh wow…that was quite a creative dress…and it matched his garishly bright bowtie perfectly.

"It was Maddie's idea," he mumbled. "She wanted to do something different, so she made her own dress. They're recycled candy wrappers."

Uh-huh. Skittles, lots and lots of Skittle wrappers from the looks of it. "You and Maddie huh?" She took pity on him and decided not to tease him about the bowtie and cummerbund that looked like it was made out of Starbursts. "I didn't realize you guys kept in touch after she moved."

"For the most part. She graduated a year early and is going to school in Boston now. Massachusetts College of Art."

"Oh? Boston isn't far from Cambridge at all."

"Nope," he grinned, and then looked at her questioningly. "Wait, you know where I'm going to school?"

"I do, and I am very proud of my MIT freshman." Joss reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He didn't pull away, but he didn't respond either. She prayed this tentative truce between them would grow and continue to last as she sat back in her chair. "I tried to keep up the best I could baby."

Taylor looked away, seeming to struggle to find the right thing to say. Thankfully, he was saved from having to do anything when John stomped through the back door, brushing off the rapidly melting snowflakes clinging to his black jacket. Had he been outside this whole time?

He must have sensed the three of them watching him, and stopped with his coat half off. "Sorry to interrupt," he apologized. His gaze lingered on Taylor a second, and when he looked back at her he winked. She could practically read the 'I told you so' in his light blue eyes before he turned to hang his coat on the peg next to hers.

"Has it started up again out there?" her mom asked.

Joss glanced out the row of windows framing the porch, surprised to see the flurries had changed over to a steady shower of snow. Early afternoon shadows were already deepening and the increased cloud cover made it feel later than - she had to check the clock on the microwave to be sure - 3:15. That did not feel right; but her body was still readjusting to the time difference, and the fact that sun set much earlier in New York than it did in Arizona.

"You must be freezing John. Sit down and let me get you a cup of coffee," Sarah offered and started to get up.

"It's all right Mom, I'll do it." She pushed her chair back and filled a cup with the last of the warm coffee, pressing it into his hands.

"Everything okay?" she asked quietly while her mom and Taylor picked up another photo album. She knew he was not out there checking on a fence, not for that long.

"It's fine Joss." His fingers brushed against hers as he nodded towards the table. "You should get back to your family."

"Join us?" He was back to being cool, distant, and the change was confusing. Had he found something outside, and didn't want to worry her? Or was this about the phone call from Ben?

"Thanks, but I should check in with the team." He lifted the mug towards her mom and son who were staring at them expectantly, then brushed past her for the privacy of the living room. The slight - unintentional or not - stung. She used to be a part of that team, still felt like she was even if John was trying to leave her out.

"You okay mom?" Taylor asked. He was stacking the scrapbooks and loose pictures into a box while her mom cleared the cups and empty bottles of water off the table.

"Yeah great, just lost in thought for a minute." She bent down to grab a napkin that had fallen to the floor. "Don't tell me y'all ran out of pictures already?"

"Nah. We were getting hungry so Grandma decided to start fixing dinner early."

On cue, her stomach growled at the mention of her mom's home cooking. For the first time in a long while the thought of food was appealing, and it was well past lunch - which no one had eaten. "Sounds good. What can I do to help?"

"Sit down and relax honey. I can manage dinner." Her mom shooed her away and set the dishes in the sink.

"Nonsense I can help…in fact I'll make dinner tonight." She clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "What are we having?"

Taylor raised his brows and turned to share a look with his grandmother. "Fried chicken," she answered.

"Oh, okay. No problem, I can handle that."

Joss swore she heard crickets chirping in the silence that followed…or she would have if there were any crickets in Newburgh at that time of year. "What?"

"Do you remember the last time you tried to make Grandma's fried chicken mom? The great grease fire of 2009?"

There was no need for their skeptical looks. And Taylor did not need to sound so dramatic either. So they'd had to use the fire extinguisher. Big deal. The flames were small and no major damage was done. She had learned from her mistakes.

"I am a fantastic cook young man."

"You are a marvelous cook dear," Sarah jumped in. "But even the greatest chefs have one or two dishes they can't master."

"Can't master?"

"You know, I've got potatoes you could peel," her mom offered.

"Potatoes?" She really didn't mind, but her teasing seemed to be lightening the mood.

"Baby steps mom, baby steps." Taylor placed the box of pictures in her hands and headed for the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going mister?"

"To take a nap." He grinned as he said it, but she sensed he needed a break, they both did.

"I need all the rest I can get before I have to go back to school and those all night study sessions."

At the words "back to school", her heart had started pumping harder. She had just gotten him back; she wasn't ready to be separated from her baby. He had his own life to live, and she didn't want to disrupt that, just be a part of it. As she watched him retreat to his room, a plan began to formulate in the back of her mind. She had some homework of her own to do after dinner.

Joss set her box down on the floor by the foot of the stairs to take to her room later, then joined her mom who was rummaging through the pantry. "Now, where are these potatoes I'm supposed to peel?"

"Dinner was wonderful Mrs. Lawrence," John said as he settled on the couch next to her. "Even if Joss did help."

"Hey, I am a great cook." She elbowed him playfully before tossing one of the smaller throw pillows at Taylor who was sprawled out on the loveseat across the room, flipping through the channels. "And why did you tell him that story?"

Taylor easily caught the pillow in one hand and shoved it behind his head. "Because it's funny mom."

Embarrassing was more like it, but it had broken the subtle tension around the dinner table so she didn't mind. Besides she would show them all how well she could cook on Thursday when she made a Thanksgiving dinner that would knock their socks off.

"Thank you John." Her mom winked at him and patted her on the knee as she made a beeline for her easy chair. "I had the fire extinguisher nearby just in case."

"Not you too," Joss muttered around her smile. She snuggled deeper into the cushions to wait while Taylor picked out a holiday-ish movie for them to watch, feeling safe enough for the first time in years to let herself relax completely.

Life was good, and even with the new threat hanging over her head, it was getting better every day. She was home with her family where she belonged, and her best friend - a man she cared for more than she should given their circumstances - was lounging on the couch next to her trying to pretend that every accidental brush of his hand against hers wasn't done on purpose. Yet no matter how good life was, she was finding it extremely difficult to stay awake. Emotionally and physically exhausted, sleep was threatening to pull her under in spite of her plans to borrow her mom's laptop and check out flights and hotel deals.

"Definitely not going to happen tonight," she thought as the images on the screen blurred, and the noises around her faded to a pleasant hum. She was so full she could not move if she wanted; and with the heat from John's body inviting her to use him as a pillow, she had no desire to. Her eyes started to grow heavy during the movie's opening credits, and before Paul Blart had even finished his first patrol of the mall on his Segway they had drifted shut. "I'll do it tomorrow."

That was the last thought to flitter through her mind as she fell asleep.

"Joss?"

She heard someone calling her name. The deep, raspy voice near her ear could only belong to John. But what was so important that he felt the need to wake her up now? She had just gotten to sleep, and was having the most wonderful dream.

"Joss?"

She shivered at the gentle rush of his breath against her skin and burrowed deeper into her pillow. "Hmm?" That was the only answer she could manage, she was too darn comfortable where she was, curled up under a warm blanket while someone rubbed the tight muscles around the small of her back.

"You should get in bed." This time his lips skimmed her cheek, drawing a sleepy grin from her.

Bed. More sleep. That was an excellent idea, except she was already in bed…unless John meant his bed… but things were complicated and they were taking it slow…right? Had he changed his mind? This was probably just another dream, but she didn't want to take the chance and miss out on anything in case it wasn't….

"I'm game if you are," she mumbled. He might have to give her a second to wake up, get her bearings, then she would rock his world.

"I am more than ready beautiful." Well that sounded promising. "But not in front of your mom."

"What?" Her eyes popped open, and she was greeted by two amused blue eyes staring back at her. She wasn't lying in her bed but…oh no. Her cheeks grew warm as she awkwardly pushed against his chest, her 'pillow', to right herself. At some point in the last three hours - if the clock on the mantle was to be believed - she had curled up next to John - practically on the man's lap! - and made herself comfortable. Adding to her current embarrassment was the knowledge that Taylor and her mom must have also noticed, which explained why she was covered with one of Great Aunt Helen's sunburst quilts.

She glanced around the room, mostly to gather her muddled thoughts, and noticed the news was on. The fire was burning low in the fireplace and the loveseat was empty. Her mom was still lounging in her overstuffed recliner, pretending to read the book on her lap.

Drawing in a deep breath, she faced John again. The laughter lingering in his eyes was contagious and she found herself grinning back. "Sorry about that," she said quietly. "You should have woken me up sooner."

At least she hadn't snored or drooled all over him…had she? Mortified, worried that she actually had, Joss lifted her hand to feel the material of his dress shirt and confirm that; but at the last minute caught herself and grabbed the worn edges of the quilt instead.

"It's okay." He shrugged like this kind of thing happened between them all the time. "You needed the rest."

Couldn't argue with him there, but that was no excuse to use him as her personal mattress. Slowly she became aware of the hand splayed across her lower back. It felt nice, really nice. "Where's Taylor?" she asked with the hope of distracting herself from the buzz spreading over her skin in the wake of his trailing fingers.

"Working on his third slice of cake," her mom answered. "You should go to bed darlin', it's getting late."

"I think I will." She pushed the blanket off her shoulders and stood, then wobbled on her sore ankle and legs that must have fallen asleep at the same time she did.

"Careful." John reached her before she fell back on the couch. He held her close while she steadied herself. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little off balance." She tugged the hem of her sweater down over her hips and stepped back, ignoring the thousands of tiny needles pricking her legs as the circulation returned. "Are you going up?" She wanted to talk about Finch's meeting this morning with his mysterious chess partner.

"No, I need to check around outside before I turn in."

Damn it. His expression had become infuriatingly blank again, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was shutting her out on purpose because he knew what she was going to ask. Maybe she deserved that after keeping secrets from him for so long, but it was irritating nonetheless. "Okay, goodnight then."

"Goodnight Joss."

She stepped around him and made her way to the recliner to kiss her mom's cheek. Sarah got to her feet and swept her into a crushing hug. "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight Mom. See you in the morning."

She mounted the stairs, intending to clean up and check on Taylor before going back to sleep. To her surprise he was waiting for her in her room, thumbing through his phone.

"Hi." She eased down on the bed beside him, uncertain what else to say, and unable to glean much from his body language. He had sought her out though, so that had to be a positive sign - she hoped. "I thought you were down in the kitchen eating the last piece of cake."

"There's a couple of slices left," he laughed, but the emotion didn't reach his eyes. "I heard you telling Grandma goodnight, and I wanted to talk to you before you went to bed - if you aren't too tired."

"No, of course not. I always have time for you." She cringed inwardly and prayed he didn't throw that last sentence back in her face. "What's on your mind?"

"I…I wanted to say I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I was angry, I am angry, but I'm sorry that -"

"No baby, don't be sorry." Joss gathered him into her arms and hugged him tight. "You have every right to be mad at me. Do not feel bad about that okay?" She pulled back to frame his face between her hands and look into his solemn brown eyes. "You did nothing wrong Taylor, I did. I was trying to bring down some very scary people two years ago; and these men - dirty cops and politicians - would have done anything, including hurting you or your grandma, to get to me. But I made some mistakes."

Taylor nodded warily and waited, apparently ready to give her the chance to explain that he wouldn't earlier. She swiped at a tear running down her cheek and lifted her chin with a deep breath. She refused to fall apart now, and screw up what could be her only chance.

"You were right. I did try to do it all on my own, even though I had friends I could have asked for help. I didn't reach out to anyone until it was too late." She sniffled and hurried to speak over the objections she saw in his eyes. "That was my fault, not John's or Fusco's, or even yours. And because I waited, one of the men I was trying to arrest was able to get away. He shot me, and would have killed me if some friends of mine at the FBI hadn't been nearby. They were able to get me to the hospital in time; and while I was in surgery they decided it would be best to let everyone believed I had died - at least until these men were arrested and put in prison."

"You thought that too?"

Not at first. Joss debated telling Taylor everything about those first few days in the hospital. She didn't want to him to feel like she had given in easily, or not fought hard enough; but she also did not want to lie either, even about minor details. The need to be honest won out.

"No. In the beginning I wanted to stay, help bring in the bad guys. Then my friend, Agent Moss, reminded me that this group would try to kill me again once they found out I was alive; that you or your grandma might be hurt instead of me. That was a risk I wasn't willing to take, so I agreed to enter their witness protection program."

He bit at his lip and made a face similar to the one she did when she was searching for the right thing to say. Understanding swelled in her chest and she continued, giving him more time to process it all. "I was bedridden at the time, recovering from my injuries. My funeral was already over, so disappearing, letting everyone think I was dead while I helped the FBI behind the scenes seemed like the best way to protect you - all of us - until this was finished. I left New York not long after the shooting, and started a new life halfway across the country."

"Where did you go mom?" he asked thickly.

"Phoenix of all places," she joked in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the moment.

"So you were in witness protection like in the movies?"

"Something like that, just a lot less glamorous." Joss let her gaze wander over his broad shoulders and short hair, the handsome face she couldn't get enough of. When tears blurred her vision, her fingers traced the same path. "But not one day went by, that I didn't think about you. I would wonder what you were doing, how school was going, if you had won your basketball games - who you were taking to prom."

He chuckled with her and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "should have burned those."

"Your high school's website sucks by the way. I couldn't get any information off of it…had to resort to hacking the FBI's files to find out anything."

"You hacked the FBI?" He sounded impressed - he shouldn't be. In fact, Finch would have banned her from the team if he had witnessed her pathetic attempt. She had not even made it past the first firewall thingy before she had some agent from the IT department on her ass.

"Well tried to," she amended. "I didn't get very far before they caught me."

After that fiasco, Ben had confiscated her laptop and the "Hacking for Dummies" book she'd bought - not that it was any help. He tried to keep her in the loop as much as he could with progress reports and updates he received from the New York City office, though they had not come through often enough to suit her.

Taylor braced his elbows on his knees to rest his chin against his fists and stare at the door. "I guess the FBI finally arrested all of the bad guys?"

"They did." The ones John and Shaw had not found first. "All of the trials are over, and I am free to come home and be with my family - for good this time," she answered his obvious question when he tilted his head to face her.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of one hand and sat up straight. Joss sensed he was working through some things in his mind, that there were more questions, but his phone started vibrating insistently on the mattress just then, interrupting the moment. She felt her brows jump even higher when two spots of color darkened his cheeks.

"It's probably Denise….or Amanda"

"Denise? Amanda? What happened to Maddie?"

"Nothing happened to Maddie. She's in Vermont visiting her grandparents." That explanation was lousy, and not enough to satisfy her. She had missed out on two years of grilling him about girlfriends and date nights. It was time to start making up for that.

"Amanda is a friend from my freshman history class," he said when she looked pointedly at the 'unknown' on the caller ID then back at him. "Denise is a girl I met at the airport. We sat next to each other on the flight in, exchanged numbers. That's all."

"That's all?" she repeated, more than a little curious. "You just met this girl, and she's calling at midnight?"

"It's barely ten thirty mom. And we're just talking." Now he sounded like the embarrassed high school sophomore she remembered, rather than unflappable college freshman he was. "I'll call her back later."

"No, go ahead." She laid her hand over his when he sent the call to voicemail. "Call her back."

"Are you sure?"

She was almost certain they were finished talking for tonight. Taylor had asked the questions he needed, and seemed to understand, or at least he was more comfortable with her answers. "Yeah, it's fine. I'm going to take a bath and go to bed. Your grandma wants to go shopping for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow morning."

Sarah Lawrence took her holidays seriously, and Joss had a feeling she would go all out this year especially. Which meant she would need every minute of sleep she could get.

"Be sure she gets a bird big enough to make turkey and dumplings with the leftovers." Taylor pushed to his feet and stretched his arms high above his head.

"You can see to that yourself since you are going too young man." Joss laughed at his exaggerated groan and stood up to walk him to the door. "So make sure Denise and Amanda don't keep you up too late."

His phone buzzed again - text messages from what she could see before he snatched it up and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. "I won't." She read the uncertainty on his face, but before she could say or do anything, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. "Goodnight mom. I love you."

"I love you too baby…so much," she whispered around the happiness that was about to strangle her. "Good night Taylor." She kissed his cheek and stood in the doorway watching him walk to his room down the hall, feeling lighter than she had in ages. Once he disappeared into his own room, she closed the door behind her and sank against it with a sigh.

What a day. A long hot bath sounded wonderful, but so did climbing under the covers and falling asleep.

Joss was debating the merits of each idea when another knock sounded near her left ear, startling her. Thinking it was Taylor, she was surprised to find John standing on the other side.

"Hey," she said softly.

"I'm heading to bed; but I wanted to check on you first." His eyes were a darker, serious blue, although he seemed less closed off now than when he left to look around outside.

"I am exhausted," she answered honestly. "But I have never felt better."

"I'm happy for you Joss."

"Thank you for bringing me home John." She meant to say that earlier, but time had gotten away from her.

"You're welcome." His gaze held hers for several heartbeats, and she felt the connection between them regain some of its strength. He lifted one hand to brush his fingertips down the side of her face when they heard another set of footsteps heading up the stairs.

"Oh, sorry. Don't let me interrupt," her mom called out as she passed by on the way to her room at the other end of the hall, a suspicious smirk twisting her lips. "Good night you two."

"Goodnight Mrs. Lawrence." John quickly tucked his hands into the pocket of his dress pants and flashed a guilty smile at her mom. It did not escape her notice how adorable he looked when he was flustered.

"Night mom," she called after her. She recognized that look, that tone. Heaven help her, the last thing she needed was her mom trying to play matchmaker…not with her track record.

"Guess I'll get to bed myself." He gestured towards the door behind him, the room directly across the hall from hers.

"Would you like to come in? To talk," she rushed to clarify at his indecisive look. "Just for a minute?" She needed to tell him about her meeting with Ben tomorrow, and it was past time for him to share what he had learned from Finch.

His eyes roamed over her, then took in the bedroom behind her before he looked at her again. "I think I'd better go to bed."

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. If they were alone right now, in a cozy room where they could lock out the rest of the world, not a lot of talking would get done. "Me too. Busy day tomorrow."

"I heard about your shopping plans." He smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. "Get some rest Carter."

"Good night," she whispered and closed the door. This time when she collapsed against the solid wood at her back a sigh of frustration escaped.

She respected John's need for time to sort out his feelings and figure out what he wanted, they both needed it…but did he have to make the wait so damn hard for her? Did he have any idea what he did to her every time he touched her, or held her close and kissed her? Or when he watched her with those beautiful blue eyes when he thought she wasn't paying attention. And that deep, lilting voice that made her melt… It was taking every ounce of willpower she had not to press her obvious advantage and influence his decision.

Joss pushed away from the door and crossed the room to scoop up her robe and a half empty bottle of body wash out of her suitcase. Until he made up his mind, she would just have to put those feelings on the back burner and concentrate on her family…maybe take up a new hobby like knitting, or skydiving. Tonight though, she would have to settle for a cold shower.

Quietly, she padded down the hall to the guest bathroom where her cold shower turned in to a long, hot bath. When she finally slipped into her robe and headed back to her room, she was more relaxed; but instead of crawling into bed like she had planned, she began sorting through the clothes in her bags and making a list of things she would need to pick up at the store tomorrow.

Once everything was tucked away in the dresser and hung in the closet, she turned to study the pajamas laid out on the bed. She had found several workable options in the suitcase from the safe house - a simple yellow nightgown, pink fleece bottoms, a white tank top, and a faded pair of black running shorts and t-shirt from her academy days. They were all comfortable and modest enough, but she had something else in mind.

Joss rummaged through the bag she'd brought with her from the loft until her fingers closed around the smooth material she was searching for. She draped her robe across the foot of the bed and slipped the cool, white dress shirt over her shoulders, not bothering with her sleep shorts like she had last night. Quickly she fastened all but the top three buttons then hopped under the covers and switched off the bedside lamp.

Pale beams of moonlight bathed the room in a gentle glow as she snuggled deeper under the covers and closed her eyes…then opened them again. She rolled to her side and adjusted the pillow under her head and tried again…with the same results.

God, this could not be happening. She was worn out, she needed sleep; but her mind insisted on playing a slideshow of the day's events - the nightmare, waking up in John's bed, their out of control kiss, meeting up with Fusco and his refusal to listen, coming home to her family.

That last memory brought a smile to her face. It had started out badly, but Taylor was coming around, and for that, she could not be more thankful. There had been the faintest flicker of understanding in his eyes tonight that made him seem less like a familiar stranger, and more like the young man she had left behind. Thank God for that, because she wasn't sure she would have had the strength to endure his rejection.

The feather soft mattress and pillows seemed to harden under her body as other images rushed back to her: the call from Shaw, the FBI searching her mom's house, Ben's phone call and his insistence that she re-enter protective custody.

After dinner there had been a voicemail waiting for her when she plugged her phone in to the charger she had borrowed from her mom. Ben's flight had landed safely, and he wanted to talk face to face as soon as possible. The message included his hotel information, along with a potential location for their meeting and another plea for her to reconsider his offer.

"I've already drafted your reassignment paperwork…on Moss' desk by this afternoon…"

She flipped over to her other side with a groan and hugged a pillow to her stomach. That was not going to happen. She truly would have to be dead this time to leave her family and friends, but his determination to change her mind worried her.

"…we need your help…he always manages to escape justice…"

The bed frame wobbled slightly when she flopped on to her back to stare at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. A small part of her was tempted by the idea of bringing down the Russians in whatever way she could. They weren't saints by any means. They peddled drugs to school kids, and were involved in almost every crime imaginable - money laundering, human trafficking, weapons smuggling, racketeering, prostitution, witness tampering, arson, extortion, robbery, assault, rape, murder, the list went on from there. If she could get even one of their bigger players off the streets it would be a victory - a small victory, but a win nonetheless.

"…you could change that…"

But it wasn't her problem. She was not an FBI agent or even a detective for the NYPD anymore. Yogorv was not coming after her because she could put him in jail. He held her responsible for his brother's death, this was personal. She couldn't help Moss make a case against the bratva right now, she needed to focus on keeping her family safe and getting through this alive…and keeping the FBI away from John and Harold while they were poking around in her new life.

What if there was a way she could do both?

The unexpected question had her writhing against the mattress again as she turned over to face the window and watch the bare tree branches wave in the wind. Could she keep her family safe and help shut down the Mafia without having to go into hiding?

Joss felt a surge of guilt ripple through her for even considering the idea; but she couldn't help it. This need to protect, to chase down the bad guys and bring them to justice was instinctive. She couldn't shut it off any more than John could turn off his…which brought on a completely new twinge of guilt. She needed to tell him about her plans to meet with Ben. He deserved to know, and she wanted him there, watching her back like he used to. Hell, he would probably follow her to the restaurant even if she asked him not to; but she was through keeping secrets from him. It was time to start repairing the trust between them that she had ripped apart two years ago. That's just what she would do tomorrow morning, right after breakfast.

With at least one decision made, she settled onto her side to face the door again and tugged on the edge of the blanket, yet it wouldn't budge. The darn thing was stuck. Impatient and ready to go back to sleep, she yanked a little harder and felt the quilt give at the same time the suitcase resting on the bench at the foot of the bed tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

Great.

Joss rolled her eyes and muttered a few choice words at the thought of getting out of her nice warm bed. She had finally settled in, but she needed to make sure her perfume and shower gel hadn't spilled on her clothes or the photo albums she had brought up earlier.

No sooner had she switched on the bedside lamp and flung the covers back to clean up the mess than the door to her room flew open. John rushed in, wide-eyed, hair slightly ruffled, gun in hand. He quickly scanned the room for threats, stopping only when he saw her kneeling next to the bed.

"You okay Carter?" He swallowed hard and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah I'm fine. I just uh, knocked over m-my suitcase," she stammered as her gaze darted from his worried blue eyes and firmed jaw to his broad shoulders and the well-toned muscles of his arms, before finally landing on the rise and fall of his bare chest.

Damn. She mentally shook herself out of her stupor and shoved the stack of pictures, including the framed one from the safe house, into an outside pocket. "I - I'm sorry John, I didn't mean to wake you."

"I wasn't asleep."

Senses still on high alert, he glanced around the room one last time, then laid his SIG on top of the dresser and crouched down beside her. Together they repacked her make-up and a few other items that had fallen out; but all she could focus on was the heat from his skin as it mixed with the scents of soap and water from his shower to tease her. Only when the suitcase was zipped up tight and stowed away in the closet did she let herself look at him.

"Thank you," she said as calmly as her racing heart allowed.

She was trying to remember her earlier promise to wait patiently; but that was proving to be difficult when everywhere she looked she was confronted with his big, powerful body. He was standing so close that she only needed to lift her arm a fraction of an inch to touch the layers of muscles lining his flat stomach.

"Were you having trouble sleeping?" She asked the first thing that came to mind in an effort to distract herself; yet her eyes continued to follow the imaginary path her fingers were itching to take. Her gaze traced the jagged outline of a scar situated just above the waistband of his black pajama pants that were slung low on his hips, then climbed up to a long-healed gash across his side, to a raised mark where his collarbone and shoulder joined. Against her will her eyes strayed to his mouth, to his lips that she knew from experience were so gentle they seemed at odds with the rest of his strong body.

"Kiss me." The demand was perched on the tip of her tongue, and if she was not careful, it would tumble off. Another curse flew through her mind. What the hell was wrong with her? This impulsiveness around him was becoming a bad habit - one she needed to break soon. She took an involuntary step back, not trusting herself.

"No more than usual." The sound of his gravelly voice drew her eyes back to his, only to find John's heavy lidded gaze traveling lazily down the length of her body. Her skin started tingling again, and she realized with a start that she was standing in front of him wearing nothing more than his dress shirt and a pair of panties. "What about you?"

She almost missed the question that had rumbled out in a low growl; and forced herself to take another step back as she answered honestly. "A little. I keep wondering when Yogorov will make his next move. What if he followed us or the FBI out here this morning?"

"You're safe Joss." John reached out - apparently surprising himself with the gesture - to sweep a lock of hair back from her cheek. "I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." She wrapped her fingers around his wrist before he could pull away and looked up at him. "I trust you John."

The faintest of shadows flickered across his face; chased away by something she was tempted to call hope. Slowly he nodded; but instead of making a move to leave, he leaned in. Her breath caught in her throat when the pads of his fingers brushed her cheek as he cupped the side of her face in his large palm. He was staring down at her, indecision deepening the lines of restraint etched around his mouth. "You should try to get some rest."

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" She hated herself for even asking. It was weak, selfish, and she didn't have a right to. John was struggling to hold himself back, yet she wanted to prolong the unguarded moment between them a little while longer.

"That's still not a good idea Joss." He hesitated - at least she thought he did - and the hand curled dangerously low on her hip tightened, drawing her closer. "We wouldn't get much sleep if I stayed."

"Probably not," she agreed. Probably not at all was more like it, not the way her whole body was humming from one simple touch.

The corners of his mouth lifted in an unexpected smile. "We're not very good at this are we?"

If by 'this' he meant keeping their hands off each other and taking things slow, then no. They were horrible at it. She closed her eyes as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. When he released her there was relief mixed in with the regret in his eyes.

"I'll see you in the morning then."

"In the morning," she echoed.

John swiped his gun from the top of the dresser and opened the door, then stopped suddenly to look at her over his shoulder. "Hey Carter?"

"Yeah Reese?" she answered cautiously.

"For what it's worth, you're looking pretty badass in my shirt."

Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned and crossed the hall to his room leaving her to stare after him, flustered and slightly amused. The last time he had called her badass, she had walked up on the latest mess he'd created wearing her NYPD uniform. That night she had rolled her eyes and happily put him in his place with a smirk and a snappy comeback…unlike now when she was practically tongue-tied.

The sound of his door shutting jolted her out of her trance. She closed her own and made her way back to the bed where she fell face first into her pillows with a groan.

How the hell was she supposed to get to sleep now?

Hello! Long time no...well no anything from me :( Since we are snowed in down here - like I'm sure a lot of you guys are this weekend - I thought I would go ahead and post chapter 6. I've been sitting on this one for a while and have re-written it at least four times, but I didn't want to make anyone still interested in reading it wait any longer. I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to leave me a review, message me, and follow my stories. You guys deserve better than an update every six months and I'm going to do my best to speed things up for both of my stories. And more good news is that the outlines for both stories are done, so that should help me get them completed and posted faster. I hope you enjoy this latest update! I still haven't watched The Crossing, so I apologize if I got any of the events or details of that episode wrong. Have a great weekend! - Meli :-)