In Bits and Pieces by ReeseisLAVAhot, SavhCaro

Intro:

John Reese is a man at the crossroads in his life, a contradiction of the human condition: he is a raw open wound that is numb to the world and the life around him. He wallows in extreme pain and yet experiencing extreme nothing, which is a very dangerous place to be. A little bit further into that downward spiral and he would become the animal that he felt he already was.

He moves in a fog, trying to find that oblivion that is just out of his reach. No matter how much he drinks no matter how many fights he gets into, he always comes back; back to the world that had turned its back on him, taken his very soul and crushed it. His world is a cold gray place where bodies have no faces, voices buzz in his ears but have no words, a place where even the air pressing in on him made it hard to breathe.

Riding the subway late at night is one way he'd found to be alone. The rhythmic rocking back and forth combined with the cheap booze he'd been drinking all day slowly lets him drift off. Nobody bothers him. Most people give him a wide berth. His hair is long and unkempt. His beard is mostly gray and ratty. His layers of clothes have seen better days, haphazardly thrown on for warmth. He smells bad. All of this tended to keep strangers at a distance. Even though he is tall, he is almost emaciated, preferring alcohol to food most days.

He wonders which dream would come to him this time. The soft tropical breeze of Mexico...smooth skin, warm to the touch, soft whispered words, a feeling of complete contentment...or the cold, dark gray of denial, of despair, of helplessness, feeling hollow and empty, of being completely alone and no longer a part of the world......worthless. A low groan escapes as his realizes it's the bad dream, the nightmare that never ends that will keep him company tonight on the cold subway train.

Chapter 1

Stanton was puzzled by Snow's order to send John off on an assignment that was well below his level of competence. But she'd learned long ago to not question Snow's decisions or she'd end up listening to sheep herders in Outer Mongolia. So she dispatched John to retrieve a dead drop from an asset. The pouch was supposed to contain information regarding an upcoming operation they were mounting in Russia. The higher ups had gotten wind of some dealings between the Russian mob and a large oil tycoon and wanted in on the action. In exchange for not exposing the deal to the world, The Company would gain a 30% share of any money. Funding the war on terror was not cheap and with Congress tightening the budget reins, the CIA was having to become inventive on how they funded their own operations.

Figuring it would take him about three to five days, she wasn't expecting him back until the weekend. The more she thought about Snow specifically ordering her to send John away, the more she was suspicious of what he was trying to hide from John. In all the years they had been together, John had only had one weak moment, that time in NYC when he saw his former girlfriend and her husband. But she had gotten him through that and he'd never looked back.

Walking into the safe house they were all sharing in a suburb of Frankfurt, Stanton was surprised to see John already back and typing up his report for the pouch going out to Langley tomorrow. Watching John without him knowing, or at least she didn't think he knew she was there, had become her favorite pastime. Seeing John in an unguarded moment was always intriguing because it was so rare. He carefully kept his true self under wraps. Even his instructor at Langley had been able to unlock that door. She knew him probably better than anyone. She had been his first field handler. She had trained him, molded him into the perfect Spook: quiet, efficient and deadly. They became partners at her request and it had been a good meshing of very different personalities and abilities. She was friendly, out -going, talkative, totally disarming her quarry with her elegant good looks and open smile. John was mysterious, magnetic. You were drawn to him for some reason, yet he remained aloof. At the same time, he could turn on the charm when the job called for it.

As she stood by the door she realized he had quit typing and was staring fixedly at the satellite radio on the table, listening to the chatter about an Op going down. Unable to understand his fixation, she stepped into the room to hear better. As she did so, John turned back to the laptop and started frantically typing. Walking toward the table Stanton finally understood what the radio was squawking. An OP was going down in Columbia and was going down badly. All hell was breaking loose, she could hear shots being fired, people yelling, bombs exploding and Spanish being screamed out by people obviously dying. Then she noticed that John had quit typing and was staring at the screen. She'd only seen that look on his face once, in NYC...........Jessica. But what would Jessica have to do with the chatter on the radio? Then she knew. That was why Snow had had her send John away. Away from other agents and any kind of satellite radio that would be broadcasting anything about an Op going down. Snow must have known something about Jessica and her presence in Columbia.

Stanton actually gasped out loud when she completed that thought. Bastard! That damn bastard knew about Jessica and knew she must have been in danger and wanted to keep John from interfering. There was almost an audible click when John put it together himself and she locked eyes with him.

He stood up so fast the chair fell over backwards and he stared at the radio. A wild look came over his face as he took it in. The civilians killed were being called collateral damage. Description of the bodies and subsequently the names on the passports rolled over Reese like a tsunami, turning his world inside out and upside down. He staggered back and looked wildly around the room until he saw Stanton standing there looking at him.......with pity? No, not Stanton. With concern? Maybe, but not really. Calculating?.........yes, that was it........she was calculating the damage done to her partner. She frowned at the accusatory look he was giving her.

Reese’s lightening quick reflexes brought him right up to Stanton’s face before she knew what had happened; she staggered back by the force of HIM. He didn’t touch her physically but rage came off of him waves so that she actually felt the need to step back. It was only by a sheer force of will and the training that THEY gave him that he was able to keep his hands by his side instead of snapping her neck like a twig. He stepped back, took a deep breath, held it, closed his eyes and slowly exhaled. When he opened his eyes he was looking at Stanton who normally was poker-faced. Now her face was utterly open to him, she registered shock at his loss of control and admiration at how quickly he regained that control. She knew, more than any other person, just what John Reese was capable of and just how close she had come to being killed.

“Tell me what you know.” he said through clinched teeth. “Then tell me WHEN you knew it.” Stanton was finally seeing the Reese that the enemy saw. The cold, hardened, emotionless killing machine that she had helped create.

He waited, inches from her, every nerve in his body screaming for release but held in check by his respect for Stanton. Waiting for her to tell him why he was in Frankfurt when it was known that Jessica was in danger half a world away. Why he was kept from saving the one person in HIS world worth saving? The longer Stanton took to answer the guiltier she became in his eyes. Small parts of his heart began to harden once again against a world of hurt. Stanton could actually SEE John withdrawing from her, pulling away and slamming that door forever between them.

He asked one more time "WHEN did you know it?

Stanton pulled herself together using all the training she'd been given. Hardening the look in her eyes, she arranged her face to show calm and everything being under control. All the while her brain was frantically trying to compose an answer that could very well result in her death or gain her a momentary reprieve. She saw the moment for her to speak come when John's eyes turned inward, sorting through memories of the past, mixed with intel of the present stirring in him anger and rage. She stepped around John and turned her back to him. Stanton hoped she'd read him correctly: that his feelings for her, his partner, his teacher and his friend, would protect her for the moment. Wondering just how much she could tell him of what she knew and what she surmised left her a little uncertain of the direction her answer should go. She needed him to be able to listen to what she said and be willing to talk about it, not just react.

"John," he spun around ready to grab Stanton but something made him pause. "I didn't know until I saw what you had pulled up on the computer screen, the travel itinerary for Jessica and her husband Peter. I promise you John, and I've never lied to you and I'm not lying to you now, that I did not know about that Op being in such close proximity to Jessica. What I do know is that Snow specifically asked that you be assigned out of country during this time period. I was suspicious of why he wanted you to do such a low level bit of Company work. Now I realize he was keeping you out of the loop and from learning anything about this Op going down. I know you've kept discrete tabs on Jessica. I've known that since NYC. But apparently Snow has been doing the same thing. He must have known that she would be the one person you would break cover for. I'm sorry I didn't figure it out sooner John."

Stanton turned around and faced John once again and gaped once again. It was like looking at a shell of a man, a skeleton with no soul. All the air seemed to go out of John as he realized how much he was NOT in control. Stanton knew he kept up with Jessica and more important, Snow had also been keeping tabs on her. He had fooled himself into believing he was hiding that part of his life from them both. Now he felt like an open music book that they had played a duet on.

Filling in the gaping hole in his soul, was hate and anger. It began building up to explosive levels very quickly. He wiped the table clear of the laptop, the radio and grabbed the edge and flung it against the wall. He heaved the chair through a window. Anything loose he grabbed and threw as hard and as far as he could. Stanton backed out of his reach and watched the scope of his despair. It filled her with dread. He stopped for one moment, breathing hard and with his eyes wild. Unshed tears in his eyes almost completely undid Stanton. This was something she'd never thought to see in someone like John. She honestly thought that part of him was dead like it was in her. She reached out to touch his arm which was the wrong thing to do. He knocked her arm away so viciously that she heard an audible snap as it broke. She cried out in pain which caught John by surprise.

Realizing what he'd done, he looked around wildly and then fled out the door. Stanton heard the car tires screech out of the drive way. Holding her broken arm close to herself, she went to the door only to see the headlights disappearing around the corner.