Rated M for mature themes and situations.

Author's note: I know... I'm sorry... I'm an evil, evil person to leave you all hanging like that, late last night. (Maybe not as diabolically evil as Victoria, but a close second... according to a few of the heart-felt reviews.)

So here it is, the conclusion of Twisted, along my apologies. :-) I hope you enjoy.

Everything had been annihilated.

Carter sat, alone amidst the burning chunks of debris, heedless of the still plummeting dangers landing all around her. Floating embers popped and cracked through the air, but she heard and felt nothing; she was just lost to the horror of her worst nightmare and oblivious to any lingering threats.

The impact of the hurling blast had left her on the ground. All she wanted was to stay there, stay in her hunched stupor of denial. She was terrified that when she got up, it would all suddenly be made, undeniably real.

Time stood painfully still, until the sound of John's stern words pulled her back to reality. 'Protect them, they'll need you.'

She gasped. The magnitude of his sacrifice hit with brutal clarity, releasing a volley of emotions that gripped her very soul. She forced herself up into a stumbling stride, tightly holding her bleeding side as she swallowed passed the pain and pushed into a run. Determined to survive... for Him. Determined his sacrifice would not be in vain.

She jumped into the Humvee and tore out of the compound.

She could barely see. Between her streaming tears and the tunnel vision of her headlights pitching through the inky black forest, she did her best to control the three tons of careening metal.

The humvee precariously clung to the very edges of each turn and to the tips of each lurching bump.

She knew she should slow down, but simply couldn't reel in her desperation to get away. The irony of killing herself by flipping into the swamp, battled with the dire need to stripe away the clinging horrors with the scrapping underbrush and blasting speed.

Tears still spilled as she finally hit the pavement in a sideways, tire squealing slide, narrowly missing the black Lincoln.

Finch had to crank the wheel of his heavy car, danergously swerving and dodging, to miss the giant metal beast by mere inches. He couldn't even separate his heart beats, they thrummed with such speed.

A vibration in Carter's pocket, finally penetrated her desperate flight. It took a couple of fumbling attempts before she pulled the phone free.

"Detective...! Detective can you hear me?!" He didn't even recognize his own panicked voice, how would she?

At first, nothing but a pained choke escaped her raw throat, then finally, one word. "Finch...?"

Immeasurable relief flooded over him at the sound of her voice. "Yes,Detective! I'm right behind you! You can slow down now." He'd lost both their cell signals after the blast and had been frantic, trying to reach them ever since.

"He's..he's gone Finch. John's gone. I saw... Oh God... I saw him." She began heaving in painfully dry, cracking breaths, swerving with each reflex.

"Please Joss, slow down and pull over." Finch stayed as close as he dared, carefully avoiding her erratic maneuvers and feared she might wreck before stopping. The helplessness of seeing her so out of control caused his stomach to lurch. "Joss, you're safe now...please let me help you." His pleading was finally rewarded by the sudden illumination of slowing brake lights.

Finch all but ran to her door, unfeeling of his increased pains, but still, absolutely unprepared to handle her condition. "Joss!" His heart broke at her fragile and haggard appearance as he caught her collapsing exit with wrapped arms.

He coaxed her to stand, supporting her as best he could, while slowly directed her toward his car. "I've got you Detective."

They were almost there when a warm stickiness began coating his hand, causing instant panic. "Oh my! You're hurt! Joss, how badly?" But he got no response. "Detective how badly are you hurt?" He pleaded.

She finally met his eyes with hers, seeing her pain and fears reflected back in his. "It's just a graze, Harold." She numbly whispered, but couldn't add 'I'll be alright...' as she paused at the passenger door.

He still had an arm around her good side when she turned towards him, wrapping her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. For just a moment, they shared the much-needed contact and mutual sorrow of their loss.

Joss was barely aware of Finch's distant voice calling in the report, then her name echoing in the car. "Detective... Detective Carter...Joss?..." Finally it filtered through her haze, "...are you sure? You saw him... die? He may need our help?"

She simply shook her head and forced the faintest whisper... "He went back in after her. Victoria. Then...," she swallowed, "...then he saw the mob heading toward the trucks, toward me. He detonated both charges to stop them. Jesus... John was in the middle, between the blasts. I saw him... then nothing but a wall of fire and I was blown back." One last tear rolled down her cheek. "Not even he could survive that..." Her voice faded as she turned away to stare out into the passing black.

Only that grim reality kept Finch heading towards the airstrip.

The sleek white Gulfstream sat outside the hanger, fueled and ready to go.

They were just over twelve hundred miles from New York. The trip would only take two hours, but for Finch, it would feel like an eternity.

What was he going back to? Logically he knew the numbers would keep coming, he knew he needed to continue, their..., the work. But nothing would ever be the same. How could he ever think to find someone like John Reese again?

The entire operation seemed impossibly daunting and futile without his friend by his side. This hurt as much as loosing Nathan. He hadn't realized the depths of his feelings for John until this moment.

He pulled the Lincoln up, close to the plane, instructing his waiting pilot to grab the bags from the trunk as he hurried around to give Carter a hand. She'd managed to wrap her side and stop the bleeding while he idling kept her talking about Taylor.

Finch had encouraged the distraction, knowing Taylor was her anchor and strength. For a split second he allowed himself to envy her. He'd lost Nathan, been forced to leave Grace and had now lost John... He was left with only the Machine as a cold tether to this world. "Detective, are you ready?"

Carter tried so hard to stay strong for Finch. She knew how hard this must be for him too. "Yeah Harold, let's go home."

Carter waited for Finch to climb the few steps into the plane, when the approaching roar of an over-revved engine echo down the deserted airstrip. She frowned, straining to detect its exact location.

"Finch are there still guns in the bag?"

"Yes. Why? You think they followed us?"

"I'm not taking any chances." She barley took her eyes off the closing headlights pulling a Colt 1911 from the bag. An instant pang of realization stabbed her heart, recognizing this gun, as one of John's favorites. She made a mental note to keep it.

Slamming her armor back in place, she steeled her emotions. "Oh Shit!" Carter identified the vehicle as one of the old 4x4 trucks she'd seen at the camp, just as it smashed through the airfield gates sending them twisting from their hinges. "Finch! That's one of Victoria's! Take cover!"

Steam spewed from the radiator, bellowing like the breath of an angry dragon as the truck drunkenly swerved toward them. Carter stood her ground taking aim at the incoming threat.

The truck's tires locked in a squealing attempt to slow its collision course, straight for them. Carter dove, rolling clear, coming up on one knee with her gun ready, just as the truck piled into the back of the parked Lincoln.

The hollow hanger amplified the crunching groans of metal and shattering glass. Smoke and steam enveloped the mangled mess, obliterating any clear target.

Carter motioned for Finch to stay put. Her heart was pumping pure adrenaline as she cautiously approached the truck, 45 held true. "Get out!" She yelled and jumped when the door fell from its hinges, crashing to the pavement and releasing plumes of trapped smoke.

"Put your hands where I can see them and get out of the truck, or I'll shoot!"

Coughing filtered through the motor's hissing spew as a shadowy figure slowly limped through the caustic smoke.

Carter's breath seized, her eyes doubting the ghostly image coming into view, as John Reese emerged from the murky vapors. "John?!"

Gun forgotten, Carter ran to him just in time to slow his sagging collapse. "I thought... we were past... you trying to shoot me... Detective." He gaspingly choked as he buried he face in her hair. Dry sobs of joy racking her body, "Shhh... it's ok Joss." he comforted as he held her, breathing her in.

Finch limped as fast as his body would allow. "Oh my God, John! Mr. Reese we thought..." He couldn't say anymore. Control was not his at the moment, so he accepted the shaking breaths of relief and a teary smile while simply absorbing the truth of the miracle before him.

With a sudden fright, Carter pulled back from Reese, to look him in the eye. "What about Victoria?"

Reese collected his last bit of energy and licked his dry, cracked lips. "It's over...," was all he got out before bonelessly slipping into Carter's embrace and exhausted oblivion.

With the help of the pilot, they carried Reese into the jet and carefully deposited him on one of the plush couches. John's appearance was a stark contrast to the clean, cream-colored leather. He was covered head to toe in dried mud, blood, soot and charred material.

Finch signaled the pilot to depart as soon as they boarded. Then hurriedly gathered a first aid kit and some waters, before settling on the facing seat for take off.

As soon as the jet leveled to its cruising altitude, Carter moved to John's side. She checked his pulse and began combing his body for new injuries. Right away she noticed Finch's paling complexion as she peeled away bits of John's shirt caked to burns on his arms. If she had any hope of keeping Finch upright and able to help her, she'd have to think fast and distract him. "So, what did Mr. Miller have to say about this whole thing?" Carter broke the silence.

Finch swallowed down his nausea as he settled next to Carter and handed her the antiseptic with more gauze. "Honestly, I don't believe he was very surprised by his wife's betrayal. I think, on some level, he'd always known she'd had ulterior motives of some sort. He has however, decided to release his work publicly. That should rule out any future threats against him and the world will certainly benefit from his life-changing contribution."

She was finished with John's arms and moved to pack a jagged graze on his shoulder. "So whoever you got your intel from, about Dr. Miller, decided to what..., leave out the part about his wife being a psychotic voodoo queen? Why were we protecting her in the first place?" Carter quickly asked Finch, seeing the three shades of green play across his face.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple Detective."

"And you're not gonna tell me why are you?" Finch didn't answer her when the raspiness of John's breathing grew more labored. "Finch. Help me get his vest off."

Together, they slowly worked off the destroyed Kevlar, which had long ago, stopped being of any benefit. Removing the heavy armor seemed to ease John's distress, as well as theirs. But the fact that Finch already had a Doctor on standby, awaiting their arrival, was a relief.

Though he seemed stable and resting well, she'd seen far to many impact traumas to not worry about the unseen, internal damage that could so suddenly crop up. She began a more thorough assessment of his obvious injuries and then gently slide her hands over his body to palpate his ribs, and just about jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

"That tickles Carter." It didn't. Hurt like hell, but wouldn't tell her that.

"Hey... you, welcome back." Carter smiled from beside him. She left her hand laying on his chest unwilling to break their contact, as if the very act of touching him would keep him from disappearing or prove he was not a figment of her imagination. "Here, try some water." She brought the container to his lips.

Finch set back, rolling his shoulders to relax the tension in his neck. He still couldn't fully accept that his friend was actually here, in front of him, alive. He was at a loss for words. Another miracle, he inwardly mused, watching Carter caring for John and their tender exchange.

Not for the first time, did he wonder at the pair's true feelings. He'd never seen John as passionate, as when something concerned the Detective. And vice versa. But neither had ever made their feelings as openly clear as at this moment.

He honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that, but whatever this was, it fueled an unwavering force, beyond reckoning. And that was a benefit to them all.

"Thank you." The water did soothed his burned throat.

"John? How...? What happened? I saw you...die." Carter forced the last word through pained lips.

He shook his head and swallowed against the rawness of his scarcely working voice, but fought through the answer. "No..., you saw the explosion but I... was far enough... to get thrown clear... of the shrapnel and... lucky to land... in muddy water... saved from the flames." Reese closed his eyes from the exertion. Between the impacts to his chest and the smoke inhalation, he wasn't going to be singing anytime soon.

"And Victoria?"

"Dethroned..." He laughed, but his scorched throat and lungs would have none of it, rebelling with a coughing fit.

"Easy. Here try some more water..." She cupped a hand behind his head, tilting it she he could drink.

Reese waited it out then started again. "Poetically... crushed... by one of her temple columns. I actually... feel a little cheated." He pouted, attempting only a smile around his split lip this time.

"How did you get out? The police must have been swarming?" Finch wondered.

"They had their hands full. I... slipped out behind them, ducking... onto side roads... Luck from there...I guess."

"I just logged in. The police are calling it a 'botched ritual suicide of the notorious voodoo cult.' I imagine the whole truth and expanse of Lebeau's organization will slowly be uncovered. I imagine, a few anonymous emails should aid the authorities on that front. I know this situation must weigh heavily on you both, but I fear the fate of her organization and its followers, would have had the same, eventual and inevitable end. Your involvement simply sped that up, thereby saving countless victims and preventing untold barbaric crimes."

Finch's words truly were like a soothing salve over a wounded morality. There had been so many killed simply because of their misplaced, drug addicted trust, no less dangerous than Victoria herself, but underlyingly, more tragic. The fact was, nothing could undo what they'd done, bring back the lives they'd been forced to take, but thinking about the lives saved because of their actions, helped to deal.

An exhausted silence fell between the three, until Reese seemed to collect himself in a concentrated seriousness, "Finch...?"

"Yes, Mr. Reese?"

"No more vacations for a while, ok?"

Finch sincerely laughed, feeling as if the crushing weight of the past week had suddenly been lifted from his chest. "No, Mr. Reese... I'm afraid they simply don't agree with you." Finch melted back into the soft leather of the seat, still wearing an amused smile that spread to his eyes, "Not for a while anyway..."

"Carter?" Reese whispered. Worried he'd missed something vitally wrong by her extended silence.

"Mmm hmm?"

"You're... uncharacteristically quiet. You ok?" Reese pushed.

After moving up on the couch next to John, Carter had been contentedly lost in her own thoughts. She was relishing the simple sounds of his voice, savoring the weight of him beside her, while her fingers idly touched his hair. She was just amazed to have him back.

She really wasn't emotionally equipped to process it all yet, so she just held fast to the utter perfection of the moment. "I'm sorry... yeah. I'm...everything is fine." She leaned in to hold him with her joy filled eyes. "Everything is just perfectly Twisted."

The end...Never

Coming soon: "Death Games"

Thank you to my Mom, for always lending a patient ear to my writing ramblings and to my wonderful beta, ReeseisLAVAhot, for her time and HUGE effort slaying the little monsters that are my type-o's! LOL (I feel for you!)