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The city of Darrow has been a bit of an interesting place to be since New Year's Eve, a little more dangerous than it's been in the past. John doesn't blame any of the people who have been affected by the changes, he can't even begin to imagine what it must be like, how hard it must be for them to adjust, but it does mean there's a bit more danger that's come with the chaos.

People take advantage of chaos. There are always people who do.

So John is out patrolling more often. He's picked up a few extra shifts on Karen's encouragement and while he knows she doesn't need taking care of, it eases his mind a little that she doesn't mind that he's out here.

It's unusual for a detective to be out on the street like this, but John has always preferred it. And he's really only a detective because the Machine decided he ought to be and John doesn't consider himself above the activities of the regular officers. So he's out on the streets and he knows he shouldn't be alone, it's not the safest route to take, but John isn't worried about his own safety.

Maybe that's why he gets cornered. It's a robbery gone wrong, a few masked men who think they can abuse an elderly shop owner into giving them all the money in his register, but John enters at just the right moment. Or the wrong one, he'll think later, when he's recovering from his injuries. It's not that they take him by surprise, he's aware from the start how many of them there are, that there's three behind the counter, one behind the door and one in the back room, but five against one just aren't very good odds.

They're worse still when he's hit from the side with a length of pipe and even though he tries to shift away at the last second, he still takes the hit on the back of his neck, hard enough to knock him down.

Karen might have encouraged him to pick up some extra shifts, but as he collapses on his hands and knees, he has a feeling this isn't quite what she had in mind.

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"You really don't want to try anything," Karen says by way of agreement, shaking her head. On the one hand, she thinks that really ought to have been proven by now. On the other, these men don't seem to be the brightest, and she wouldn't put it past one of them to make a run for it or attack, even now. It will be their mistake if they do, but she also doesn't really want to hurt anyone more than is strictly necessary to subdue them. The simpler they can get through this, the better off they'll be. "Do yourselves a favor and just stay put, alright? It'll be better for everyone that way."

Whether or not it will work, she doesn't know, but she doesn't intend to let her guard down for a moment, just in case. She barely even knows what she's doing; it doesn't seem worth the risk of being caught by surprise.

"Put the cuffs on him," John tells Karen. "I'll read his rights loudly enough that it can apply to everyone."

The sirens are closer now and he may not be in the best shape either, given the blow he's taken, but he's still not someone who's easy to get through either. Karen may vert well be able to take all five of the criminals and John included in a fight right now, but none of the men seem particularly inclined to try anything further.

They know the second they do, Karen will be on that. John's grateful for that and he's grateful for the sound of the first cruiser pulling into the parking lot.

If there weren't still so many people to keep subdued, Karen thinks she might well stop and kiss him right about now. She's worked with him plenty before, but this isn't usually an area where she's involved, and with good reason. Things are different now, however temporarily, and between the rush of adrenaline, the fact that he's not as seriously injured as she'd feared, and how kind of fantastically competent he is, it's hard not to wish that everything else could be put on hold for just a few moments.

Soon enough, though, the other officers will have arrived, and though she doesn't think that seeing a medical professional would be a bad idea after that blow he took, they'll have plenty of time for themselves once these assholes are taken care of. Grabbing the handcuffs as he's told her to, she fastens them on the man who'd run at them, trying — and mostly failing — not to look too pleased with herself and John for this.

"Backup should be here any second, sounds like."

Another car pulls up outside and John can withstand a great deal of abuse, he's taken worse than this, in fact, but at the same time he can't help but be grateful for the sounds of doors slamming and the voices of the officers who are approaching from outside.

"One officer inside," he calls. "Two civilians. Five perps. One is cuffed and two are disabled, but the other two are still free, but unarmed. Be careful."

His badge is visible on his belt and so when the cops enter and glance at him, they can see it immediately. They move past him, working swiftly and efficiently to cuff the remaining suspects, which leaves both John and Karen without anything to do for the first time tonight. It's a relief and he shoots her a glance, then nods toward the door, indicating they can probably slip out. Before they give statements, they need to decide what they're going to say.

It's the first time that Karen has been relieved that there are so many people involved in the botched attempt of whatever this was supposed to be when she came in. No one is looking at her and John as they subdue the others, which means it won't look suspicious when she and John duck out. She's sort of used to this, anyway — maybe not specifically, but withholding details, keeping things hidden that needed to stay that way, that had become part of her life back home. She never really expected that it would happen quite like this, but she's lied to police before, and she'll do it again in a goddamn heartbeat if he thinks that's what's best.

"Jesus," she says on a heavy exhale once they're outside, wrapping her arms around herself as she shivers, mouth curved into a frown. "Are you alright? How's your head?"

"I might have a concussion," John admits, reaching up to touch the back of his head. There's swelling and pain under his fingers and he prods gently, wincing when the pain flares up at the pressure.

It's not the first concussion he's ever had, though, and he's not all that worried about it. When he drops his hand from the back of his head, it's to reach for Karen instead, fingers curling over her shoulders so he can pull her close to him.

"That was incredible," he says. "You were incredible." If she hadn't come in, he might still have been able to subdue the men, but it would have been a hell of a lot more work and he might have been injured worse than he already is. Karen had made it look easy.

"Honestly, I don't really even know how that happened," Karen admits, a little flustered. It just sort of did, instincts she hadn't yet figured out how to use kicking in when she saw him being hurt. Even now, that's her top priority, hands resting on his jaw when he reaches for her shoulders, just barely resisting the temptation to slide further back to touch his neck and feel the wound for herself. That won't help anything. Instead, she just breathes deeply. A concussion isn't as bad as all that — given the circumstances, it could be so much worse — but she still figures she ought to be careful. "Do you think you should see a doctor?"

"Maybe," he says, knowing he ought to see a doctor, knowing it's probably the safest bet, but he can't focus on anything but Karen right now. His head aches, but he smiles and lifts his hand to her face, brushing back some of her hair.

It's not the most ideal timing, not the most romantic situation, but he should have told her a long time ago now. Their time in Darrow could very well be limited, especially with how they tend to conduct themselves, like they have tonight, throwing themselves into danger without really thinking about it. If it's something he feels, she ought to know.

"You looked like a superhero," he tells her with a smile. "Coming in through the door like you did and all I could think was how much I love you."

At first, Karen doesn't quite believe what she's heard. Then, she thinks it must be the product of the concussion, that he doesn't quite know what he's saying or will take it back at any moment. Quickly, though, logic drowns all of that out. It's been months now, and it was far longer before that she had unshakable feelings for him, no matter how hard she tried to talk herself out of them. She probably loved him even before he finally first kissed her. Maybe this isn't exactly how she would have expected a conversation like this to happen, but she's not about to write it off, either.

"Took you long enough," she says, teasing, her nose wrinkling through a smile. She leans in to kiss him then, just because she can, soft and brief but sure. "I love you, too."

"Too long," he agrees through the rush of something he can't quite place when she returns his sentiment. It's not as if he hadn't already known and thinks she must have, too, but it's still different to hear the words spoken aloud, to know for certain she loves him like he does her. What he feels is some combination of relief and gratitude and affection, all of it so strong he knows he hasn't felt anything like it in a very long time.

Not since Jessica. But he isn't going to make the same mistakes this time, he isn't going to take Karen's presence for granted or think he can save the world without having something to live for.

"Let me talk to the officer in charge," he says, then kisses her again, longer this time, lingering. "I'm sure they'll let us give our statements tomorrow if I tell them I need to see a doctor. I'll be right back."

"Give us more time to plan?" Karen asks, her voice kept low, and she's only half-teasing. They could figure something out on the fly if they needed to. It's practically part of their job description. Still, if he's hurt, then the best thing for him would be to get medical attention or at least rest, and there's no telling how long they'll be hanging around here if they have to give their statements now. If it means they have more of a chance to determine what they're going to say, then that's even better.

Besides, her heart is racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the fight that just took place or whatever this power is flowing through her veins, and she would really rather not deal with other people right now at all.

Her hand slides down to take his, briefly. "I'll be right here."

He smiles when she says that and although he doesn't nod, the look he gives her makes it clear that's exactly what he's been thinking. At least part of it anyway and it doesn't surprise him at all that Karen can read exactly what he's trying to tell her. He squeezes her hand in return, then heads a few steps away to find the officer in charge.

It doesn't take long to deal with the situation and John arranges for them to come to the station tomorrow. They know him, they know his reputation, and he's well liked in the department, so it doesn't take much work.

"Come on," he says, returning to where Karen is standing so he can taker her hand again. He loves her and she knows it now, he's said it to her, heard it from her. Somehow that makes the entire night seem just a little bit different. "We're free to go."

Though she'd have dealt with it regardless, though it probably wouldn't have made toomuch difference, Karen is still relieved when John comes out and says that they're free to go. Trying to explain all of this or hurriedly craft a story just isn't something she wants to have to deal with right now, and he shouldn't have to, not with the injury he's just sustained. Tomorrow, they'll have a handle on what to say and he'll hopefully be rested, not just coming from having taken a serious blow to the back of the head. Right now, they may as well have a little time to themselves.

"Perfect," she says, her hand curling around his. "Let's get out of here. How are you feeling?"

"Well, let's test my memory," John says with a faint smile. Maybe he should visit the hospital, but he'd really rather not and it isn't as if it's the first possible concussion he's ever had. His head hurts, but his vision is fine and he's not dizzy, nor does he thinks his reflexes or coordination have suffered, which probably means, if anything, the concussion is mild at worst. He knows who he is, he knows who Karen is, can remember both his own birthdate and hers, and he can tell her the mayor of Darrow, as well as the last ten presidents in order.

"Ask me anything," he says, turning them in the direction of their shared building. She can stay with him overnight, make sure he doesn't get any worse, but given everything that's just happened, he doesn't want to end up in the hospital, surrounded by doctors. He wants to go home with her. He just wants to be with her.

"What's our wedding anniversary, Mr. Riley?" Karen asks, shooting him a bright, teasing grin. It is, maybe, a little unfair when they haven't had to fall back on that particular story for a while, but despite how dire the circumstances were, and the fact that he was only just a stranger then, it's still amusing to think back on how they met given where they've wound up now. In a way, it feels almost as if this was meant to happen, whatever they had in common binding them together inextricably from that first afternoon. She could have left him there; no harm would have come to him. But she didn't, and one thing led to another, and now, well—

He loves her, and somehow that's both earth-shattering and self-explanatory, as if it's always been the case. Maybe, for her, it has been.

"June 14, 2014," John answers with a soft smile. He could marry her, he realizes, which isn't something he's allowed himself to feel or even consider for a very long time. Not since Jessica. There are so many things Karen has made him feel for the first time since Jessica, though, and he's not surprised this is just one more thing for him to add to the list.

"You were working for the lawyers on a case I had," he adds "But you changed careers soon after."

The first meeting had been rather exceptional in a lot of ways, not only because he'd shown up on a Darrow beach, hypothermic and near death. Because maybe he'd loved her a little bit already, even then. Whatever it is, he can't forget it.

"Alright, you passed," Karen says, a little relieved, though her smile is more simply pleased than anything else. She knows perfectly well that he's had injuries worse than this one, but that doesn't stop her from worrying. Still, if he can remember those details so easily, then he's probably alright. A little worse for wear, maybe, but not too seriously injured. "That's pretty impressive, actually, considering how many fake relationships we've had since then."

Notably, of course, is the one Harold arranged for them before John finally made his move. She's still convinced that must have been a deliberate move.

"We've had a few, haven't we?" he agrees with a smile, thinking back to the first time they'd met, when she had gone so far out of her way to make sure he was okay, to make sure nothing bad happened to him. There aren't many people in the world who would do something like that for a stranger, not many people who would care as much as Karen had even when she'd barely known him at all. It may not be the only reason John loves her, but it's certainly high on the list. So many people don't seem to care at all and then there's Karen, who wants to help in so many different ways.

"This one is my favourite," he tells her. "The one that isn't fake." It probably doesn't need to be said, he's sure she knows it already, but he still likes to say the words.

"And since I passed, does this mean I get to go home instead of the hospital?"

"I think you could probably say that we've made a career out of being in fake relationships," Karen says, laughing just a little. It seems true enough, with as often as they've played those roles, or maybe those are just the ones that have seemed most significant to her. For so long, she wanted this, and for so long, she was sure she would never have it, that it only stands to reason that those would be the jobs that became the most significant to her. It also makes its own kind of sense that that's finally how they got their shit together. The walking in on him shirtless part, she couldn't have planned, but the rest was familiar territory.

Carefully leaning her head against his shoulder, she adds, "This one is my favorite, too. And, yes, since you passed, we can skip the hospital. For now."

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