"Nothing is right, nothing is just; We sow in Ashes and reap in dust" - May Montgomery Singleton

Ashes
Jezyk
Spoilers: Possibly anything through Blue Code
Disclaimer: Not mine

Author's Note: This is not a happy, fluffy, feel good fic. It's angry and sad and contains graphic sex. Very adult content. Turn back if these ideas upset you!

Part One

It was a rare thrill when Reese looked at his ringing phone and read "Carter" on the display. Rarer still that he hadn't been expecting her to call regarding a favor he'd asked of her. In fact, he thought as he activated his ear piece, she'd never called him without prompting.

"Good afternoon, detective," he said with a smile.

"I need to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere?" Her voice was nervous, hesitant.

Despite her anxiety, he knew it was going to be a good day. A day that involved Carter calling him for no particular reason and wanting to meet up was bound to be good. "I can spare some time." He was doing surveillance on their latest number, and so far, the man appeared to be a very late sleeper. Checking his watch, he decided that the man who hadn't gotten out of bed by noon probably wasn't going anywhere for a few more hours.

She swallowed loud enough for him to hear as her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm kind of tied up right now, but-"

"Need some help with that, Carter?" He chuckled at her exasperated sigh. Until she told him flat out to stop with the innuendos, he had no intention of it.

"Meet me in an hour?"

"Name the place." He'd meet her anywhere, anytime, and he'd be happy to do it.

#####

Usually, Reese was the one to set the time and place and to keep her waiting until he could sneak up on her. He loved the way she'd jump and try to glare at him, then wind up grinning. It was fitting then, he figured, that when she set the meeting, he was the one left standing in an alley waiting for her to magically appear. He didn't mind though, not with the prospect of seeing her smile at him.

When she finally came around the corner a good twenty minutes late, she wasn't smiling.

"What's the matter?" If she was worried, he was worried.

She looked upset, pained, as she barely met his eyes, looking away before he even registered the eye contact. "Snow's back in town."

Fuck. So much for the good day he'd been planning to have. He shrugged, playing off his concern. "He'll poke around and then leave again. He has no idea where I am. He has no idea that you do."

She shook her head. "No, John, he knows."

"Finch keeps a close eye on him. I'll tell you if Snow finds out." He moved closer to her, trying to catch her eyes, wanting to reassure her, wishing they had the sort of relationship where he could put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her. "You're fine, Carter."

Her eyes closed, her face reflecting pure regret. "They followed Taylor yesterday. My son called me in tears! He was terrified they were going to hurt him!"

He hadn't known that and made a mental note to get Finch to start keeping tabs on the boy. "I'm sorry about that, really, but Taylor doesn't know anything. They know that. He never would have spotted them if they hadn't meant for him to."

"I don't care. My son is not getting involved in this, period."

He nodded. "He won't, don't worry. Snow doesn't have the time or the budget to follow a kid around for the hell of it. He's just trying to intimidate you."

"It worked."

His eyes flew to hers, a jolt of pure fear sending adrenaline surging through his body. "You told him?" He didn't have the strength to look around, to see Snow and his cronies skulking in the shadows, to try to guess where the sniper would be hiding.

She shook her head, guilt radiating from her as she leaned her head to the side. "No, I didn't tell them, I can't turn you in without implicating myself anyway."

Still unable to breathe a sigh of relief, he studied her face, trying to figure out what she was so upset about. She knew he'd protect her, didn't she? "Don't fall for it, Carter," his voice held more of a warning than his words.

She recognized a threat and looked up to search his eyes. "Fall for what? I'm going to protect my child, John, and if you try to talk me out of it, I'll lose every bit of respect I have for you."

"I wouldn't dare." He held her eyes, letting her see the truth there. "If they offered you immunity, if they said they'll let it go, they were lying, they'll screw you over. Believe me, I know how they operate." He moved forward, damn near reaching out to touch her, to drive home his point. "They'll kill you, Jos; they'll kill Taylor just to torture you."

She looked up at him, her chin trembling at his words.

And then he did give in, his hands cradling his face, knowing that having crossed that physical barrier, having touched her like that would make her understand how firmly he believed in his next words. "I can take care of you, I can take care of both of you. Trust me."

"I do trust you, you know that, but I don't trust them." Her eyes were wet, but she didn't look away. "I can't do this anymore."

Her words echoed in his head as his hands dropped back to his sides.

She'd fucking blindsided him, and if he hadn't been so damn devastated by her words, he might have marveled at how easily she'd managed something that so few had ever been able to do. She'd cut him to the quick with one fucking sentence. Five words. Five fucking words that turned his entire world upside down. Five fucking words that turned him inside out.

Five fucking words that killed him.

Or maybe her. He was beyond furious, his anger having quickly buried any worry he'd felt for her. He'd killed good people before. He'd killed good people for far less. The woman who had the audacity to hurt him shouldn't be much of a stretch for him.

Unable to even formulate a response, he stared at her, his lip involuntarily curling into a snarl at the woman who'd always been able to make him smile despite himself.

She tried to hold his eyes, but apparently the rage there was too much and she turned her head away. "I'm sorry, John, I am, but I just can't…" She took a deep breath and continued, trying to explain herself even though he couldn't care less what reasons she had to give. "It's too much and I've almost gotten caught so many times. I know you're upset, but I have a child to look out for. I'm a single parent, I can't lose my job, I can't go to prison. If it were just me, it would be different." She glanced back at his face, a desperate look of pleading in place of her usual playful smile. "I'm sorry, I am. I'd do it if I could, because I know you're trying to do the right thing, but-"

She reached out, offering him the phone he'd given her, the one he'd used far more than absolutely necessary. He grabbed it and snapped it in two. Might as well let her know he wasn't about to give it back to her. Might as well convince himself he wouldn't be calling her any more.

Finally finding some words besides an angry string of curses, he stepped forward, crowding into her personal space in a manner completely unlike the gentle way he had just moments earlier, closing in on her until she recoiled, hitting the wall in a failed attempt to keep space between them. "I warned you there was no backing out."

Shock made her eyes lock on his and he watched the myriad of emotions pass over her features, anger, anxiety, hurt, fear. "What does that mean?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you going to kill me? Turn me in?" Settling on anger, her eyes turned dark as she pushed off the wall and shoved at his chest. "You think you're going to intimidate me into working with you when I just told you I'm out?"

Her eyes were burning hot, begging him for a fight. Was that what she wanted? Did she want him to insist she continue to help him? Did she want him to threaten her the way he continually threatened Fusco?

The thing that scared him was that he was actually considering it. He wanted her to stay that badly.

She was right. It had to end. It was too dangerous, for her physically, for him emotionally. In a few short months Carter had somehow managed to resurrect that part of him that Stanton had killed years earlier. He'd started to feel again, he'd started to care again , he'd started to be human again.

And that just wouldn't do.

Just like the last time with Stanton, he took a moment, staring at the woman who'd killed the humanity in him and wondering if she even realized what she'd done. Then he turned away and started walking. She wanted out. Fine. She was out. Fuck her if she thought he was going to beg her to stay, if she thought he'd demand her cooperation, if she thought he'd ever reveal how much she'd hurt him, if she thought he'd ask her to change her mind. No, he'd just turn it off, stop feeling, let his conscience and his morals shrivel up again. At least Finch would be happy. Reese would once again be his dutiful, obsequious robot.

He felt her hand on his arm, her fingers gripping his sleeve. He ignored her touch, the same as he ignored her voice.

"John, wait." The anger was gone, and he might have said she sounded hurt, but he refused to consider it, to acknowledge her. What else could she possibly have to say? He'd offered her his protection, the only real safety she'd ever know, but she hadn't wanted it. She was nothing to him now. It was her choice.

He needed to get away from her. She'd broken him; she didn't need to know it too.

She moved in front of him, her hands falling on his chest. "I said wait."

He sidestepped her without hesitating, his long strides easily carrying him away from her as she attempted to keep up.

"John!"

He heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing. It was all he could do. Otherwise, her desertion would kill him.

#####

He stormed into the library, growing somehow angrier when he spotted Finch's startled face. Pissed as hell, he hurled the broken phone past his boss' head. It almost made him feel a little better when the man jumped in his chair.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Mr. Reese?" Finch's eyes were narrowed as he sized up his very angry, very dangerous friend. "I thought you were working on our latest number."

Fuck the numbers. Fuck Finch. Fuck the machine.

Reese snarled. "I'm taking the day off. Maybe the week. Actually, I think I'll call you when I'm available again." He turned away before he could register the dismay on the other man's face. "Oh, by the way, Carter quit, so don't call her to fill in."

He'd almost made it to the stairs when Finch's voice rang out.

"Mr. Reese, I understand you're angry, but there are ways to solve this problem." He paused, waiting for Reese to re-enter the room. His face curled into a malicious smile. "I'm happy to remind her of some of the more unorthodox activities in which she participated. Perhaps remind her that she's not in charge here, give her a reason to change her mind."

"They shadowed Taylor yesterday, scared the shit out of the kid."

"Oh." Finch had the good sense to reveal his surprise. "I hadn't thought there was a reason to keep tabs on the boy."

"Maybe you should have covered that angle, huh?"

"Still, that's no reason we can't encourage her cooperation." Finch's natural haughty expression returned. "I have recordings of every meeting and phone call. I'm sure she'll see the light if we let her know we have proof of her wrongdoing."

Reese stared at him, even less inclined than when Carter had suggested the same thing. He shook his head. "No, Finch, we don't want her if she doesn't want us."

"You don't seem to have any problem with the arrangement with Detective Fusco." Finch's eyes held his, reminding Reese that he saw and understood far more than he ever said. He knew full well Reese's feeling for Carter went far beyond the professional.

"Fuck them both, Finch." He hadn't been willing to acknowledge his feelings for Carter when she'd flirted shamelessly with him every time they spoke. He certainly wasn't going to own up to them now.

"In lieu of asking her to rethink her decision, shall I contact her captain? Teach her a lesson in betrayal? I told you that you were too quick to forgive her the last time." Finch's eyes seemed to twinkle at the notion of turning her in. He'd never liked her, never trusted her.

Reese tensed, ready to attack. "You leave her alone, Finch."

"Mr. Reese, I realize that you're still shocked by her change of heart, but be reasonable. Why do you want to protect the woman who's done this to you? She hurt you, hurt her back. All's fair, Mr. Reese, I'm sure you know the saying."

He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. No, Finch didn't deserve to die simply for referencing something they both knew. Finch had held up his end of the bargain. He'd been honest. He'd been fair. He'd been generous financially. Finch was the only person he'd ever known who hadn't screwed him over. That was worth something. Quietly, Reese pulled his phone from his pocket and laid it on Finch's desk.

"Oh, so you're going to quit now too, because Detective Carter was mean to you. Must you be so immature? Go back to drinking yourself to death and living on the subway over a woman? "

He shrugged. It was as good an idea as any. "I'll call you."

"When?" Finch's voice was a squeak, his fear of losing his partner evident.

Reese shrugged again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't face it right then. Not when he'd be tempted to call her. Not when he'd have to deal with Fusco. He needed a break. A long one. Maybe a permanent one.

"Mr. Reese, this is-"

"Don't beg, Finch. It's unbecoming."

Finch lifted the phone, offering it back to Reese. "Why don't you keep this? I won't call, I promise. I'll wait to hear from you."

Reese just walked away, leaving Finch staring after him with the phone still in his hand.

#####

Reese had long known the appearances counted for far more than they should, but he'd never really paid much attention until he ducked into the closest liquor store and piled as many bottles of whiskey on the counter as he could carry. When he'd been living on the street and only bought one at a time, he'd receive scathing looks of disdain from the clerks as they bagged his purchase. But cleanly groomed and in a suit, the guy behind the register didn't bat an eyelash at the two-hundred dollars' worth of whiskey he was buying.

In fact, he grinned as he bagged the bottles. "Party tonight?"

Reese smirked at him, itching to down a bottle right then and there. "You have no idea."

Oh he was having a party all right. A fucking pity party. He was going to drink until he forgot Carter's fucking name, which was going to require a hell of a lot.

He paid in advance for a few weeks in the shittiest hellhole of a motel he could find, knowing he'd drink through his money quickly, then settled down on the bed with one of his whiskey bottles and turned the tv volume up to try to drown out the sounds of the prostitute giving the guy in the next room a hell of a good time.

Luckily, a few months of sobriety had let his body forget its previous level of tolerance for alcohol and it took almost no time at all to pass out.