"John. Detective Fusco followed Officer Simmons to Alonzo Quinn."

The surprise registered on his face only briefly. Nothing really shocked him anymore. "So it was Quinn the whole time." Reese continued, his thoughts running alongside Finch's. "And he set up Zambrono and Walker, getting Griffin's competition out of the way."

"Yes." Finch released a troubled sigh. "And he had no problem executing his own godson."

Reese's face turned grim. Quinn was one cold bastard.

"How did it go with Mr. Baisden, John?" Detective Fusco's enlightening call had taken his attention away from his partner's activities momentarily.

"It went. What are we doing about Quinn? Do we think Griffin is involved?"

"Somehow I doubt that. This wouldn't have worked so well for so long had the mayor been involved. His political opponents would have dug deep enough a long time ago to find out or at least get close.

"Right now we need to find evidence that we can get to people who won't bury it. There's no paper or digital trail that we've found thus far. No money trail either. But that was before we knew who we were looking for." Finch painfully tried to stretch his muscles. He would work a little more on this by setting up his computer scans to reach into every minute detail of Alonzo Quinn's personal, professional, and illegal lives before calling it a night and seeing what resulted in the morning. Or at least after a few hours.

This was going on both his and John's third night of no sleep, their dealings with the Machine and Root having kept them occupied for a solid 48 hour stretch before they were confronted with Detective Carter's dire predicament. If they were going to be any good for the detective, they needed to get some sleep. "I've got some work to do on my end, Mr. Reese. I checked in on Detective Carter a little while ago. Why don't you call it a night. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow." He disconnected the call.

John was restless, though. His mind whirling with possibilities of how to end Quinn for threatening Joss, killing people she cared about, and being an all around evil bastard. It was what the government had trained him to do. Something he excelled at. Though it was still a part of his makeup, he was learning to channel it into saving people. Mostly. Only killing in self defense or in defense of others, or those he knew firsthand had killed others. Quinn fit that mold. But this involved Carter. She was better than he was when it came to matters such as this. His thoughts drifted to Elias. She was clearly better than he was. Though it wouldn't satisfy his personal desire for revenge, being able to turn in Quinn, Simmons, and whoever else they could finger to the feds would have to suffice.

The problem was, he wanted to do it now. He wanted to continue to work until the job was done. So he could return the Carters to their home safely. But Finch had told him there was nothing more for him to do at the moment. It wasn't a feeling he liked. Even though the Carters weren't in immediate danger thanks to the safe house, he wanted it over and done with. He wanted to tell her the threat was gone. He wanted her to know he wasn't going to rest until it was.

He wouldn't be going home.

Taylor and Joss sat on the living room couch, simultaneously watching TV and surfing the internet. She looked over at her son, engrossed in something on his laptop screen. He had been quiet the entire day. He got that from his father. Whenever something was troubling him, he shut down. Didn't talk. Just kept his worries to himself. She reached her hand out and gripped his chin, turning him to her. "Hey. Do you want to talk?" She watched as he shrugged and she released his face. "It's going to be okay. We'll be going home soon. Like I told you, this is just a precaution, but I hate that I'm putting you through this."

Again. She wanted to add "again." Her job had put him at risk before. Gotten him kidnapped by the very man she'd gone way out on a limb to save last night. Sometimes she questioned her sanity.

"It's okay, Mom. I know it's not your fault."

But it is, she wanted to tell him. She chose to be a cop, chose to risk her life doing what she loved. It was her fault for not recognizing what it could do to him. She'd always told herself that she could get hit by a bus and taken from him, that her dangerous job didn't really matter. She was beginning to question that justification now.

Her temporary burner phone ringing disrupted the quiet moment. She looked at the caller id. It was Fusco. "Fusco? What's up?"

"Carter. Hanging in there?"

"Hanging. What's going on?"

"We think we got him."

She got up from the couch and headed toward the kitchen. "Who?" She had a guess as to who but she didn't want to get ahead of herself.

"HR. The big kahuna. It's Alonzo fucking Quinn, Carter."

"What? Griffin's chief of staff?" After the initial shock wore off, Carter started putting the pieces together. The niggling feeling she'd had about that shooting he was involved in where Szymanski was killed. The all around elusiveness of HR's leader with power but little presence. It made a hell of a lot of sense. If Elias could masquerade about as a quiet school teacher, Quinn could perpetrate as a loyal campaign manager-turned-chief of staff. "But wait a minute, Fusco. Quinn was Cal's- "

"I know. Cold-hearted son of a bitch, Carter. Long and short of it."

She swallowed. She and Cal were nowhere near the point of falling in love with one another. They had still been in the discovery stage, and she'd spent much of that time taking one step forward with him before making two giant skips back. It had been a staccato-like relationship that never held a note long enough to see what could or couldn't happen between them. Regardless, she cared about him. As a friend if nothing else, especially after learning the truth about him. That he hadn't been involved in setting Szymanski up and was genuinely interested in her, not using her to keep himself two steps ahead. He hadn't deserved what happened and it hurt even more to know it came at the hands of his own godfather, the person his parents had entrusted to guide him through life in case of their absence. "What's next?"

"Glasses is working on that with Wonder Boy right now I'm pretty sure. What about you? Need anything?" He didn't even know where John had stashed his partner but if she needed anything he'd find out right now.

She shook her head and smiled. Fusco always cracked her the hell up with his nicknames for Harold and John. She sighed. "No. We're good. Thanks, Lionel."

"Let me know, okay? I'm heading home."

"Okay, thanks again."

"Yep."

She hung up the phone, anger and sadness competing wildly for her attention. Even though they'd sat around doing nothing, it had been a long day. She watched as Taylor made his way into the kitchen.

"I'm gonna go to bed." He reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

She looked at her watch. It was only 10:30 but she felt ready to crash, too. "Okay, T. Sleep tight." She watched as he headed out of the kitchen before she added, "Love you."

"Love you, too, Ma."

She smiled for a brief moment. That sounded like him. He always sounded like he was rolling his eyes when he responded to her declarations of undying motherly love. That boy held her heart like no one else ever could. He kept her going, kept her sane whenever she thought she was going to lose it. Like a few minutes ago.

She looked down at her phone as she received a text message. There in twenty. It was from the man who always tried to cancel out all of Taylor's good work at keeping her sane. Her stomach tightened. She immediately thought back to earlier in the evening and wondered why he was coming by instead of calling.

She was angry, hurt, tired, relieved. And she decided at that moment she wouldn't be responsible for her actions once he walked through that door.

Carter's heart pounded a little in her chest when he arrived fifteen minutes later. She let him in, the television turned down low so Taylor could fall asleep peacefully. Hopefully. It was the only light illuminating the room so she turned on one of the lamps by the door after he crossed the threshold.

Even in the low level light, he looked tired yet wired. Like he had a lot on his mind but hadn't the energy to expel it. Like his reserves were depleted and he was running on the last bit of fuel in his line. She imagined she looked the same.

"We think we know who's behind HR." He spoke the words to her after stepping into the room and turning to face her.

She left the foyer and headed toward the couch. "I heard. Fusco called me." Plopping down tiredly onto the couch, she smelled his scent as he walked past and sat down heavily next to her. Not at the opposite end of the couch but right next to her. She didn't know what he'd been up to since he left several hours ago but he still smelled good. She wondered what cologne he used. It mixed with his chemistry perfectly and probably cost as much as his perfectly tailored suits.

She shook her head. "I just can't believe he'd do that to his own godson."

He didn't turn to look at her. He was sitting too close to do so. If he turned his head, his lips would only be a couple feet from hers. Way too close. "We're gonna get him."

She knew that was true. He and Finch were good at what they did. And, for John at least, this was personal. Everything from him towards her since the entire thing started told her as much. It was one of the reasons why she couldn't resist making the offer. "You can stay here. It's late." She didn't know if that was his intention all along or if he only wanted to check in on them before going home for the night.

He chanced it finally and looked at her. He was too tired to care if she saw it. Everything in his eyes. He stared at her for what felt like a minute but was probably only seconds. "I can't." His voice wilted. But, again, he didn't care.

"You're tired. It's okay." I want you to stay.

He continued to stare at her before shaking his head. "Taylor's asleep."

Her head shifted slightly in confusion, her eyes still meeting his.

"That's why I can't stay." Their buffer would be gone. Things would happen.

She nodded. But she didn't care. She didn't give a damn about his reasoning. She was too tired to. Too tired, hurt, angry, relieved. She grabbed his hand and got up from the couch, picking up the remote with her free hand to turn the television off.

He rose with her, following behind as she led him to her room, same as before. Once they were inside, she closed the door behind them and pressed her back against it, the only light in the room streaming between the blinds, gifted to them by the moon. He stepped toward her, not waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark, and wrapped his hands around her waist, beginning the meticulous process of devouring her.

It was dark so they felt. They felt tongues and lips and wetness. Cotton and satin and worsted and polyester. Skin and teeth and pulsating veins.

They pulled and sucked and bit and thrust.

All before they even left the threshold.

Walking her over to the bed, he waited until she fell back on it before following, crawling up her body. He felt himself wrapped in her arms as he sank in, cursing loudly in his head and gritting his teeth so the curses wouldn't leave his mouth.

She felt herself filled, cloaked by his large frame. Protected. She let go. She felt and let go.

A short time later, they both struggled for oxygen, almost competing for the precious element. Exhausted, spent. Renewed.

Reese climbed off the bed moments later, folding down one side of the comforter and sheet. He waited until she crawled toward him, laying her body down onto the exposed fitted sheet, before climbing back in beside her. He drew the covers up over their slick bodies and slid his arm beneath her until he had wrapped it around her small frame.

Then he closed his eyes and let go.

"Anything yet, Finch?" John stood in the living room fully dressed the following morning. It was early. Only around 6:30. But his mind and body had rested thoroughly and demanded he get up. He'd lain there in defiance for several minutes, though. Thinking about what they'd allowed themselves to do. To feel. He turned his head to look at her. She'd drifted away in her sleep but not far. He hoped that was how it would always be: if she ever drifted away, she would never be beyond his reach. He'd climbed out of bed, trying his best not to wake her, and taken his clothes into the hallway bathroom.

Today, he'd meet up with Finch and devise their next step. He'd take Joss with him. Lionel, too. They deserved to be in on the meet. They deserved to be there when it was decided how to bring HR down. For Carter, to make certain her son would truly be safe. For Fusco, to bury his former corruption once and for all. For him, to make damn sure Carter got that certainty.

"I'm just beginning to sift through some things. There's no new number yet so I'm working as quickly as I can."

"I want to bring Carter and Fusco, Finch." He didn't expect an argument from his partner and friend. The four of them needed a safe and secure place to set their plan in motion, and Finch needed their headquarters to best do his work. The trust amongst the four of them was written in blood, sweat, and tears. And the real secret, the Machine, had no presence there. It made sense. It was time.

There was a short pause before John received his response. "I'll have Detective Fusco's donuts ready."

His stomach beginning to growl, Reese decided to go out to get breakfast for the three of them. He scribbled a note on a notepad he found in the kitchen and started to make his way to the bedroom where Joss was still sleeping. Spotting her temporary cell phone on the end table, he instead placed the note beside it, certain she would see it there if she woke up before he returned. Like most people nowadays, she would head for her phone first thing.

Returning forty-five minutes later, Reese quietly let himself back into the condo, arms laden with bags and a cup carry tray. She had seen his note because she was in the kitchen, fully dressed and preparing to brew some coffee. "Good morning."

"Morning." Her eyes opened wide at the amount of food in his hands and she took some of it from him. "What'd you get?" She began to rifle through the bags.

"Pancakes, French toast, hash browns, sausage, bacon. Eggs, scrambled. Fruit- "

"Coffee. Mmm." Carter spied the styrofoam cups and immediately grabbed one. Taking a sip before adding any cream or sugar, she moaned as the liquid rush hit her. "Right on time. Thank you."

"Will Taylor eat it?" He knew what Carter ate for breakfast. He was less sure about her son.

She nodded. "Yeah, but we better put his away. He won't be up anytime soon. He'll sleep all day if I let him."

Together, they fixed their individual plates and headed over to the table to eat, the television turned to the news as background noise. As they settled in, Joss continued to wait for it. For the regret to settle in. She had acted impulsively, the strain of a roller coaster last couple of days- months really- beating her down until only her id was left in control. Freud would have had a field day. She waited for it from him as well. For the awkwardness or uncertainty to flank his actions, his words.

"I want you to come with me to meet Finch. Fusco, too. You should be in on this." She'd go with him, be safe in the library, and one of them would bring her back. They wouldn't have any trouble keeping her out of sight.

She nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. "Anything to get out of here. What's it like out there now? Sky still blue?"

He smiled. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours, Carter."

"Feels like I been here a week….When are we heading out?"

"Whenever you're ready. I already called Fusco. Taylor should stay here. He'll be safe and we shouldn't be gone too long." He'd have to use the landline to reach his mother if he needed to. The battery had been removed from both Carters' personal phones as a precaution. He should have gotten the boy a burner but his uprooting them from their home had been rushed and unplanned.

"What does Finch have so far? Anything concrete? Quinn was a careful son of a bitch."

They spent the remainder of breakfast discussing the case, their theories, the clues they had missed. Before they knew it, they had finished eating and were ready to leave. Joss informed her son that she was leaving with John and would be back soon, reminding him to stay inside and call her if he needed anything. It wasn't long before they were in Reese's window-tinted SUV where she ducked down low and shielded her identity with her sunglasses.

She waited still. But they never came. Regret, uncertainty, awkwardness. They never even passed by.

"So where we headin?'" Fusco sat in the back seat of the SUV. He had been dressed and ready to go shortly after receiving John's call.

"It's an old library. Abandoned."

Carter cut her eye at Reese briefly. She resisted catching Fusco's eye. She and her partner had known about John and Harold's hideout for awhile now. They just never bothered to let the two men know that they knew. It kept the peace. Didn't infringe upon the two secretive men's desire for privacy. She was surprised that was where John was taking them. What was next, she wondered. Would they tell them about their government surveillance source no one was supposed to know about? What else was she going to get out of John since sleeping with him? It was like he was becoming an open book right before her eyes.

Fusco remained silent as he looked out the window. He'd act surprised when they got there. No need in riling up Wonder Boy and Glasses on their own turf.

"So this is it, huh?" Carter had seen the building before but she hadn't been inside. After climbing the stairs and walking through the gate, she was decidedly…..underwhelmed. Some computers, monitors, a big dry erase board that had seen better days. That was pretty much it. No sign of anything remarkable enough to spy and keep data on New Yorkers. Wherever the big server was, it wasn't here.

Bear greeted the two detectives and his master enthusiastically. More humans meant more play time. And he was always down for that.

Extricating herself from the dog, Joss made her way over to the board and turned to Finch. "This is the big secret hiding place?"

"To be fair, Detective, there was no secret. You just never asked." His mouth twitched at the corner at the Well, that's true expression on her face and he turned back to his monitors.

His focus on the task at hand, Reese went to stand beside his partner. "What do you have so far?"

Fusco finished roughhousing with Bear and took his fill of the place as well. He was a little disappointed. Their superhero digs were pretty damn dull. He eyeballed a box of donuts, spirits lifting a bit, and took his pick.

Carter made her way over to flank Finch from the other side.

"I've gone through his financial and employment records. Nothing spectacular there. No excessive regular or irregular deposits."

"No offshore accounts?" Fusco spoke around the glazed donut in his mouth.

"Surprisingly none. I'm still digging." Finch paused his typing as he pondered. "If he wasn't getting direct payments, he's been doing this for the thrill, so to speak. The power." He resumed his search, looking into phone records.

"Who needs money when you own law enforcement and can get anything you want without it?" Joss crossed her arms over her chest as she watched Finch work his magic.

"I'm searching his phone records although, like us, I'm sure he uses untraceable ones."

"What about his past, Finch?" Reese leaned down, pressing both hands atop the desk. "Maybe we aren't going back far enough. He had to start somewhere. Who was close to him? Anyone with a record?"

Joss continued to watch the screens as all the text and binary data flew by. "He couldn't get to where he is without screwing over a lot of people. Somebody's gotta know something and isn't talking."

"Oh, what's this now?" Finch maximized one of the screens on the far left monitor. It flashed from an alert he had set up and running in the background. They all read the breaking news in stunned silence. Alonzo Quinn, the mayor's chief of staff, had been found murdered at his home in the early hours of that morning. No other details were available. Finch looked up at Reese, while Reese turned to Carter. Fusco turned to Bear.

While they silently took in the implications, Finch navigated to the local news websites, a niggling feeling washing over him. It didn't take long to find verification of his thoughts. There had been a small string of murders over the past twelve hours. Cops. Some of the victims had been identified. Patrick Simmons and Raymond Terney among them.

Carter and Fusco looked around the room for the ringing telephone that suddenly pierced the still air. Reese made eye contact with Finch before sliding open the desk drawer and retrieving the phone. He pressed the talk button and listened, ignoring the three sets of eyes on him.

"Hello, John. I'm sure you've seen the news by now." Elias sighed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Crazy world out there, isn't it? You don't have to thank me. I always repay my debts. Give the detective my regards."

Joss stared out the window while John drove back to Fusco's place. He glanced at her occasionally, wondering what was going through her mind. He wondered about Fusco, too, who sat uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat. Both of them were probably reeling from Elias' brand of vigilante justice that had likely left them feeling empty, devoid of any satisfaction.

She didn't know how or what she was supposed to be feeling. It all seemed hollow somehow. HR's reign was probably over, at least until the next Quinn came along. Her son was safe. There was no longer a target on her back. Szymanski and Cal could rest a little easier now. But at what cost? She'd saved the man who murdered them, and she was beginning to feel she'd chosen wrong. It was only a matter of time before Elias went after the Russians. The corruption and war for power would continue. So what, really, did she accomplish?

Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out, frowning at the unrecognized local number. "Carter."

Reese listened to her end of the conversation. From what he gathered, his coercion had worked. He turned to glance at her when she finished the call.

"That was Clarks from IAB. They lifted my suspension. Baisden confessed to taking the gun."

"Why the hell'd he- ?" Fusco sat forward before it quickly dawned on him. He made brief eye contact with Reese in the rearview mirror before settling back against his seat, a wry smile spreading across his face as he looked out the window. Of course, he thought. Who else?

Carter looked at Reese, too. He didn't make eye contact, though. All she saw was that smirk taking over his profile. She looked out the window again, her own smile fighting its way to her face. Of course, she thought. No one but him.

After dropping Fusco off, John and Joss walked quietly into the building of condominiums, taking the elevator up to the top floor. Joss studied the elaborate architecture of the small enclosure as they rode up and decided she wouldn't have minded staying. Though the circumstances of the last twenty-four hours had been less than desirable, the accommodations were beyond pleasing. As they stepped off the elevator, Carter wondered if she could swing it. Work something out with Finch. He apparently owned all four condos that occupied the top floor; surely he could rent one out to her at a discount rate.

Her thoughts ceased as she felt John touch her hand and stop walking before they reached their door. She turned to him and immediately felt her heart begin to pound. He was looking at her in that way again. That look of concern and desire and protectiveness and utter devotion. The same look he assailed her with last night. The same one that had her giving herself to him without hesitation or regret.

"Are you okay?" She had been quiet for awhile now. Quite frankly, he couldn't stand it any longer. If she wasn't okay, he wouldn't be either, and he needed to start figuring out what he needed to do to make her okay.

She took a deep breath and broke eye contact with him. She'd been asking herself the same question since the car ride back. Hell, since Donnelly was killed. She wasn't sure. She really wasn't sure. "I don't know."

He nodded. At least she hadn't lied to him and reflexively said she was like people, himself included, tended to do. But that wasn't it. That wasn't all that was at the forefront of his mind. "Are we okay?"

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. That one was easy. That one was the only one she didn't have to think about. She reached up with her thumb and swiped at a tiny piece of lint that had been drawn to the corner of his mouth. She nodded. "We're okay." She let her hand linger on the side of his face, closing her eyes as his head descended. His lips were soft, caressing hers the way his hands had caressed her body last night. She sighed into his mouth.

They were okay. They would always be okay.

~End

A/N: Thanks for reading! I really do appreciate it! :)