I'm baaaaaack! As you can tell by the title, this is the latest story in the Wolf series.

Big shout out to my beta for this installment, wolfmusic218. Thanks for all your help!

As usual this fic is complete and betaed, so I will posting twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays.

Dedicated the Mi Amore ladies and the ladies of the Careese shipper page for keeping the flame alive. Thank you ladies for all your support and encouragement. I wouldn't be able to do this without you.

Chapter 1

The homeless woman known only as Joan toddled through the park, pushing her cart filled with her precious few belongings. She stopped at every garbage can, rummaging through them for recyclables she could sell. She hummed tunelessly to herself as she worked for today had been a good day. The cops had skipped their morning raid on the warehouse where Joan and most of her homeless friends spent their nights, so she had been able to get several hours of uninterrupted sleep; a rare treat for an old woman who did not have a safe place to rest her head at night. Her scavenging had paid off with enough money for a large cup of coffee and a couple of doughnuts for her breakfast. For dinner Reverend Jeremy's soup kitchen had served her favorite meatloaf with gravy. Tonight on her way back to the warehouse, she had already scavenged enough recyclables to assure her of another hot cup of coffee in the morning. With a triumphant grin, Joan plucked another aluminum can from the garbage and dropped it into her cart.

Yes, today was a good day.

Joan's cart squeaked loudly as she pushed it towards the next can further down the pathway, but she still heard the groans that came from the bushes to her left clearly. She paused as she considered whether or not she should investigate. The homeless usually tried to keep to themselves and not go looking for trouble since trouble all too easily found them. One never knew what dangers lurked on the mean streets of the city, but Joan was a curious woman and she simply could not help herself.

She followed the sound for several yards until she came to the source, a dirty disheveled man lying on the ground under a tree in pool of his own puke. To Joan's horror, she could see some blood mixed in with the vomit. She'd lived on the street for years, she'd seen several of her follow homeless die vomiting blood, and she knew the consequences could be dire for the man if he did not receive medical attention.

She racked her brain trying to remember the man's name. Chris! He was Chris. He hadn't been homeless in Manhattan very long, Joan had only seen him for the first time a few months back. However, her intuition, finely honed after many years on the streets, told her there was something different about him. He wasn't like the other homeless people, he was…sad. He didn't hear voices, he wasn't paranoid, he didn't have flashbacks to traumatic events, nor was he disabled like the rest of the homeless population. He was just sad. Like John.

JOHN! John would know what to do, John would understand this man. She had to find John. But how?

Suddenly an idea struck her. She returned to the pathway, stopping to look up and down the path until she saw what she was looking for. She marched down the walkway and stood in front of one of the cameras that monitored that part of the park. "Hello?" she called and waved her arm.

There was no response from the camera. "Hello!" she said, more firmly this time. "I need to talk to John."

The red light on the camera came on and it swiveled slightly to focus on her better. "That's better," Joan said haughtily. "Now you listen. Tell John he needs to come here quickly, there is a man here who needs his help. Can you tell him that?"

The red light blinked twice then shut off. Joan nodded in satisfaction and settled on the nearest bench to wait. John would come soon and fix everything.

At that moment, John Reese, Alpha Wolf, vigilante, and family man was supervising his toddler daughter Cali as she "helped" him and his mate, Jocelyn Carter, clear the dinner dishes off the table. Joss would take a dish off the table hand it to Cali who would then toddle over to her father and solemnly hand it to him so he could put it in the dishwasher. Cali obviously was taking great pride in helping her parents, and her parents were having a hard time keeping their amusement to themselves. Taylor Carter had paused in his homework to watch and he too was having trouble not laughing out loud at the serious look in his baby sister's face.

John's phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, throwing a meaningful look at his mate as he did so. Joss nodded to acknowledge that she understood and took over sole supervision of Cali.

John was surprised to see that his message was not from his employer, Harold Finch, but from some anonymous source that he guessed was probably the Machine. He pushed the button on his phone to playback the message and was further surprised to see a video of Joan. "Now you listen. Tell John he needs to come here quickly, there is a man here who needs his help. Can you tell him that?"

Taylor watched the message over John's shoulder. "Isn't that the crazy old lady you hung with while you were homeless?" he asked.

"She's not crazy, just don't touch her stuff," John corrected automatically.

Joss's eyes widened in surprise when she heard Joan's voice coming out of John's phone. She cocked her head listening to the message. "Whelp, I guess we had better get going," she said as the message ended. "Taylor, can you put her sister to bed for us?"

Taylor scooped up his little sister. "Sure mom."

"I better call Shaw and Fusco for back up, we don't know what we're walking into." Joss dialed her phone as they headed out the door.

The wolves all converged on the park at the same time. "What's going on?" Fusco grumbled. "I'm missing the game."

John shrugged. "All we know is that there is someone here who needs our help."

"Do you know where Joan was?" Joss asked. "This is a big park."

John nodded. "I slept here a lot back in the day. Follow me."

They followed the Alpha as he led them straight to where Joan was waiting on her bench. Her face lit up as soon as she caught sight of them. "I knew you'd come!" she said.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"There's a man, his name is Chris," Joan said, clearly proud of herself for remembering his name. "He's sick." Joan paused. "He's like you, John."

John looked puzzled at that last bit, but he knew better than to question his friend. "Where is he?"

Joan led them through the bushes until they came to the man.

Shaw gasped as soon as she saw his face. "Is that who I think it is?"

John squatted down for a closer look. "Christopher Brandon," he said in a reverent tone like he had just seen Batman himself.

Fusco wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Is he – drunk?"

The man groaned and the unmistakable stench of alcohol enveloped them. Reese grimaced as they looked at the filthy wolf lying in a pool of vomit at their feet. "He was a great warrior once. A legend in Wolf society." He couldn't keep the shock and sadness out of his voice.

Joss looked down into the old man's eyes. They were the exact same eyes John had had when she first met him. The loss, the hopelessness, the pain, they were all there. Her heart ached in her chest and at that moment she was determined to help this poor, hurting Wolf. Joss touched her mate's hand. "Let's get him cleaned up," she said softly. "Then we'll find out what happened."

Before they could act, the drunken Wolf stirred. "Woo…woo…oooo…"

"Cleaned up? We need to get him to shut up first! I ain't listenin' to this all the way to the safe house, Alpha," Fusco groused.

Shaw opened her bag of medical supplies. "Sounds like you every Saturday night when you strike out with some chick."

"That was once. ONCE! I-" he stopped as the two Alphas glared at them.

The tiny op stepped forward with a syringe and the old Wolf finally fell mercifully silent.

"Where do you want to take him?" Joss asked as John scooped the old Wolf up and tossed him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

"The loft is the closest safe house," John replied as he started walking towards the cars.

Shaw eyed the limp form of the former warrior draped over John's shoulders. "Don't you want some help with that?"

John shook his head. "He's very underweight."

John carefully placed Brandon in the SUV he and Joss had driven to the park, then the Wolves all drove over to the building where John's old loft was located. Once they reached the building, John once again carried Brandon in a fireman's carry into the lobby. To Joss's horror as they were walking to the elevator, Mrs. Kowalski, the building gossip, entered via a side door. "Good evening, Mrs. Kowalski," John smiled as he strolled casually by as if there wasn't a drunken legendary Wolf warrior draped over his shoulders.

"Um, hello, John," The wide-eyed old woman responded weakly as she stared. "Is your friend alright?"

"He's fine," John cheerfully replied. "He just needs a nap. And a bath." He gave her his most disarming smile.

Fortunately, at that moment, the elevator gave a cheerful ding to let them know it had arrived. They all piled on as Mrs. Kowalski continued to stare. "Going up?" John asked politely.

Mrs. Kowalski waved her hand. "Go ahead, I'll wait for the next one."

As the doors closed, Fusco made a gagging motion. "Hope this is a fast elevator," he mumbled. Joss wanted to chide him, but she had to admit the old Wolf smelled like he had been dragged through a latrine twice. The small, enclosed space was not helping.

The elevator arrived at the 5th floor and John carried Brandon down the hall to the loft. Joss unlocked the door, and John placed Brandon on the bed.

Fusco wrinkled his nose. "You know you're gonna have to burn those sheets after this?"

John shot him a dirty look but had to admit to himself that Brandon was in extremely rough condition. He couldn't help but wonder how this could happen to a Wolf of his stature, but he put that aside for now. First, they had to get the old warrior sober and cleaned up.

John started to carefully remove Brandon's coat. Joss moved to help him while Shaw and Fusco grabbed some medical supplies out of the well-stocked cabinets.

With a groan, Brandon came to. He looked around the loft, blinking his runny red eyes until they focused on John, the closest person to him.

"It's OK, you're among friends…," John started to say.

Brandon pushed John away and slid off the bed. He wobbled his way towards the door when Joss stepped in front of him. This was the first time the team had seen Brandon upright, and it was a bit of a shock to discover he was as tall as John. The female Alpha standing in his way only came up to his shoulder. Despite the height difference, she stood fearlessly in front of him, hands on hips with her Severe Mom look that Taylor and John knew all too well on her face. Brandon looked startled by the stubborn woman blocking his path to the door. He blinked at her in surprise.

"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"Um, I was just going…" he gestured helplessly towards the door.

Joss lifted her chin, eyes blazing, and looked him square in the eye. "No you're not," she said firmly in the Voice that had kept Taylor on the right path throughout his teen years.

Brandon regarded the determined woman in front of him for a minute as the rest of the team held their breath. Slowly a smile spread across his face. "As Milady wishes," he slurred. He tried to bow but nearly fell over instead. He righted himself and wobbled back to bed collapsing in an undignified heap on the mattress.

"Doesn't it scare you when she does that?' Fusco asked John.

John smirked. "Yes."

"Actually it's kinda hot," Shaw said as she walked over to the bed.

John lifted an eyebrow at her.

"What? I'm not going to try to steal your girl. But if something happens to you, I may try to persuade her to change sides!"

"I'm standing right here!" Joss snapped.

Shaw gave her a wink and examined Brandon. "He's down for the count and then some," she said. "But he's in surprisingly good shape for a homeless drunk."

"Any evidence of drug addiction?" Joss asked with concern.

Shaw shook her head. "Nope, he's clean there. Two Buck Chuck is his one and only."

Just then Brandon hiccupped directly into Shaw's face. She scrunched up her nose and gagged. "And he's weaponized it."

"What about the blood in his vomit?" Joss asked.

Shaw shrugged. "Probably not a big deal, there wasn't very much. Sometimes if you barf enough your throat can get a bit raw. I think that's all it is."

She rolled him over and jammed a needle into his butt. "Vitamin shot," she explained. "He's a bit dehydrated and malnourished. Nothing a couple of days with regular access to food and clean water couldn't cure though." She rolled him back over, swabbed the inside of his elbow with antiseptic and deftly inserted an IV needle. She hung the bag from the robe hook on the side of the headboard. "This will help him with the dehydration. Hopefully, he won't be terribly hung over when he wakes up."

She straightened up and looked at John. "That all I can for him for now, Alpha. Do you want me to stay with him?"

"I'll stay," John said. "The rest of you can go home. Lionel can you give Joss a ride back to the Bunker?"

"Sure, Alpha," Lionel said. He turned to Joss. "I'll wait in the car while you say goodbye." Then he and Shaw left.

Joss slowly approached her mate as he stared down pensively at the old Wolf. Gently she placed her hand on his arm. "He'll be fine John. We'll get him all fixed up."

John covered her hand with his much larger one. "He's a legend Joss. Strong. Fearless. Something awful must have happened to bring him this low." His looked over at her, the concern in his eyes was obvious. "We may not be able to fix it."

"We'll figure it out," she predicted confidently and gave him a kiss. "See you later."

John watched her go, worry creasing his brow.