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In the end, they'd settled on Karen's apartment rather than John's.

He'd pointed out that she has a better view, being two floors higher, and he'd liked how the light had come into the living room better on her side of the building. They're not things one might expect of John Reese -- or even John Riley -- but when it had come to deciding which apartment to live in, he'd done his best to set aside his CIA training or anything that told him one would be better than the other based on tactical advantages.

That's not what he wants his life with Karen to be about.

They're still spies, of course, in their way. They still work together on the sorts of cases the police department can't or won't take. He trusts her with his life on that end and he's glad to have her, to know they have that kind of transparency between them. But he still wants this to be their home together. Something separate from the jobs they both do.

So he's moving boxes out of his place, to the elevator, and then into hers. It's not a difficult move, he doesn't have many belongings and they don't need his furniture, but he's had to decline help from two neighbours now, telling them he's just about done, when in reality he just doesn't want them touching his boxes of weapons. Or spy equipment.

All the boxes are labelled books. Only one of them contains books of any kind.

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To an onlooker, Karen suspects that it's probably an amusing situation on more than one level. Not many people seem to move from one apartment to another in the same building, and certainly not with so many boxes labeled books. Knowing what's in them, even she can see the humor in it, but she thinks that's got to be a good approach to have with all of this. She's never taken a step like this before — moving in with someone, sharing a home. She's never had a relationship this serious in the first place. It feels right, though. Living only a few floors apart, they were practically doing this already. Now, it's just official.

"All these books, and the neighbors are going to think that we're starting our own private library or something," she says, teasing, holding the door for him to carry one of the boxes inside. "I don't know where we'll manage to put them all."

"Better they think it's a private library than a private arsenal," he says once he's inside, turning to smile at her as he sets the box down on the floor. "I also thought labeling the boxes with something heavy would mean people were less inclined to help."

But that doesn't seem to be the case. It's nice that their neighbours are so accommodating, but at the same time he wants them to keep their distance. There aren't many people in this city who know much about him and he would very much like to keep it this way. Karen is always going to be the one exception for nearly every rule he's ever made for himself, something he thinks Carter would be proud of.

"But it turns out people on my floor are very helpful." He grimaces a little. "Too helpful."

"Well, maybe the people on my floor will be a little less helpful," Karen says, teasing. "Though I think this might have it just about taken care of." It's always a tossup here, she thinks, whether people will want to keep to themselves or get into someone else's business. Maybe that's most cities, though, even if Darrow is nothing like she can imagine anywhere else being. There are still going to be commonalities, no matter how strange. The work they do — the actual contents of the boxes — reflects that.

"We're going to have to figure out what to do with all of these books."

"A safe," John answers. He has one in the other apartment and a dolly waiting for him to bring it upstairs into Karen's. It's a fair size, hard to move, but he thinks he can do it without too much trouble, and it's the best place to keep most of the weapons. A few handguns they can keep in lock boxes and he has a gun case for the rifles, but there are other, slightly less legal things, they need to be careful with.

"For the valuable books," he says with a little smile. "The ones we probably wouldn't want anyone to steal."

Or know about at all. He's fairly certain no one watches him in Darrow, he'd spent weeks and months scouring his apartment in order to make sure it hadn't been bugged, and he'd broken into the surrounding apartments to make sure his neighbours were legitimate, but he'd never found anything. Even so, there are things they need to keep hidden.

"Of course," Karen says, nodding. She can't quite help the smile that plays at the corners of her mouth, but she also knows better than to take a subject like this any less than seriously. It's too important; there's too much at stake. That's just all the more reason to continue playing along, speaking in code, and there's really no getting around the fact that there's something amusing about talking about guns as books. "We wouldn't want books like that falling into the wrong hands."

She isn't used to keeping weapons around that aren't on her at the time, usually just the one she keeps in her purse, but she's sure she'll get used to it. No matter what they don't talk about, they've been together long enough for her to know what kind of man John is and why, how important his — their — work is, and that's nothing she'll take issue with.

"And it keeps everyone safe," he says, reaching out for Karen, his hand sliding over the back of her head, her hair soft and fine through his fingers. He leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead, knowing there are things he can't say even though he wants to, and trying to give feeling to those things with just that simple kiss.

It will never be enough. Everything in the world he can do for her and it will never be enough.

"These are the special books, after all," he continues. "The ones I only take out when I really need them."

He trusts Karen with his guns. He trusts her with everything. But there are still weapons he knows it's best to keep locked away. His sniper rifle, the rocket launcher, the grenades. It's not Karen he's worried about, but anyone who might break into their apartment while they're away.

"I know," Karen says quietly, a slight smile curving her lips when he kisses her forehead. "I trust you." She has practically since she met him, when she was willing to lie to hospital staff despite any misgivings she had about the NYPD. He's never once made her feel that she was wrong to do so. There may be things they don't talk about, or that took a long time to ever come up, but that's as true for her as it is for him, and part of why she feels so secure with him. She doesn't need to know everything to know him.

"You know, I've never actually lived anywhere with a safe before. I think maybe that's some sort of step up, or something."

John is glad she considers it a step up rather than a step down, because he knows not everyone in the world would be so willing to take that kind of risk. Carter might have, but he'd been prepared to give this life up for Jessica, knowing it wasn't something he could put her through, knowing she'd never have been happy. He sometimes worries about that with Karen, not wanting her to be doing something she isn't happy with, but he doubts very much she would. She's not inclined not to speak her mind, it's one of the things he loves so much about her.

"I've never lived with anyone else period," he admits. "Unless you count staying in the library with Harold now and then, which I don't."

This is very different. It's closer to the life he's always wanted and never thought he would be allowed to have.

"Actually, I haven't either," Karen says with a shake of her head and a quick, soft laugh. "Not since I left home." That feels like longer ago than it probably should, though perhaps that's by design. She had every intention of leaving the past firmly behind her when she moved to New York, and except for Ben, she managed it. Her demons are her own, of course, and there's no doing away with that, but she got the fresh start she wanted. She just also got a hell of a lot of new trouble, too. Of course, none of that is anything worth saying, and God knows she was lucky not to have a roommate in New York given some of the shit that went down, but it does make a step like this seem all the more significant.

It's easy, though, too, which she supposes she could say about being with John at all, going all the way back to when she first found him on the beach and lied about being his wife so she could stay with him in the hospital. It was instinctive, something that just made sense when it damn well shouldn't have.

Clearly teasing, she adds, "So I guess that makes this a pretty big deal, huh?"

Once, in a life that feels very long ago and very far away, in a hotel in Mexico, John had intended on marrying the woman beside him. It hadn't worked out that way, his life had taken a very sharp turn into something else entirely and so had Jessica's, and as much as he regrets not being able to save her, he doesn't regret that his decisions have brought him here.

Carter, were she still alive, and Finch, were he still here, would both know what a big deal this is for John. He likes to think they would be proud of him. He likes to think Jessica would be, too, because for the first time in a very long time, he's standing here with someone who knows more about him than she doesn't.

"I guess so," he agrees and when he steps forward to kiss Karen this time, it's no chaste kiss on her forehead. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her close to him and kisses her in a way that's meant to convey the things he doesn't know how to say.

Edited 2018-08-13 16:06 (UTC)

Smiling when he kisses her, Karen leans in close, arms winding around his neck. It's almost strange, really, how steady she can feel here with him when so much about their lives is anything but. They chose that, though. Perhaps more importantly, it's something she thinks they understand about each other and have from the start, both of them the kind of people more inclined to run into trouble than away from it. They'll both always have secrets. They'll just have this, too, something safe and theirs, a trust that doesn't involve needing to know everything about each other.

Sometimes, thinking about the clusterfuck she left behind when she showed up here — and everything she's remembered since — she's not sure how she got this lucky. She does know, though, that she doesn't mean to take it for granted. That includes here and now, with this. Maybe moving in together is a simple, logical step, but it is a big deal, too, and she doesn't see the sense in pretending otherwise.

When they part, John smiles at Karen, then brushes back some of her hair and nods toward the door. "Come on," he says in a low voice. "Just a few more trips left and then I'll live here."

And in the meantime, he can ask her opinion on a few things that he's been tasked with lately. For once, they'll be things that likely won't end in gunfire or one of them having to pretend to be someone else.

"Peggy wants a bachelorette party," he tells Karen as he heads back for the elevator. "Not a typical one. I think it's my job to take care of that." He's in the position of maid of honour, after all, although he's not sure if it's still called that, given that he's not much of a woman. Whatever his title, though, he knows his job.

"Well, I'd hope it's not a typical one," Karen says, following along half a step behind him, laughing as she speaks. "I'm not sure how I feel about you spending a night surrounded by male strippers, drinking fruity cocktails." Granted, it's hard to imagine Peggy wanting anything like that, either, or asking John to arrange her bachelorette party if that were what she wanted. It's funny to joke about, but it would be a goddamn weird party, even if she isn't actually someone who would be jealous over something like a stripper. Something like that would, at least, lead to some great stories.

"I assume that's a typical bachelorette party, anyway. That's what TV tells me."

"That would be us spending a night surrounded by male strippers, drinking fruity cocktails," John answers with an arched eyebrow, because the guest list to this party would be relatively small, but Karen would absolutely be on it. Somehow he can't see them all, the two of them, Peggy and Dutch, in a strip club and when he tries, he can't help but smile down at his shoes. They're lucky that isn't the plan.

"I'd like to give her something she'll enjoy," he says. "But I've never been much of one for parties."

If John had his way, every birthday and date worth celebrating would drift by with little more than a nice drink and a quiet evening without any interruptions.

"See, all the more reason not to do it," Karen says with a teasing grin, elbowing him in the side. "That would just be awkward." She doubts she would actually care, but it's hard to see Peggy being interested in something like that, anyway. Karen can't really claim to know her well enough to know what she would want instead, but male strippers and cheesy accessories and girly drinks don't really seem like her thing. They definitely aren't her own, or John's. At least the cliché is something that can be ruled out.

"I'm not really much for parties either. At least not throwing them. I mean, you know me, my idea of fun is usually just... cheap booze and a game of pool."

"That sounds like Peggy's sort of party," he says. "Maybe I should put you in charge of the planning."

Peggy probably doesn't care who plans the party, just as long as there are no ostentatious sex toys present, like the box this Tony had sent to her. Karen would never do that to her and John certainly has no interest in buying anything like that either. Certainly not for a party anyway.

The elevator doors slide open on his floor -- soon to no longer be his floor -- and John heads for his apartment for the last little bit. "I was thinking we would do something like that. Something relaxed."

"Mm, no, you do not get to foist party planning off on me," Karen says, shooting him a quick, teasing grin. "You're the maid of honor, that is your job. I'm just here for... moral support? Maybe some tips?" It does help, at least, though it's unsurprising, that Peggy probably wouldn't want something too huge or elaborate. Imagining her at some stereotypical bachelorette party, wearing a sash declaring her to be the bride and a boa and a stupid cardboard crown or something, is a mental image that's hilariously incongruous with the person she knows. At least if none of them are interested in that sort of thing, it's unlikely the night will take that kind of turn.

"But relaxed is good. It'll be, what, you, me, Peggy, Dutch... I think we're all relaxed party people."

"You're always my moral support," John answers with an affectionate smile, unlocking the apartment door and revealing the last few boxes. In truth, the apartment doesn't look terribly different from how it did while he was living there or when he'd first arrived. The furniture is the same, the shelves had really always been bare, most of his decorations only in place to lead people to believe he cared about his living space. He's happy to leave them behind.

This place had only ever been somewhere to store weapons. It's Karen's apartment that feels like a home.

"We'll do relaxed," he says, piling boxes onto a dolly. The last few. "I think you might be the only person with whom I can do relaxed."

"Well, good," Karen says, her smile a little softer, too pleased to really be teasing. There may be plenty about John she doesn't know, will never know, but she knows enough to know how significant something like that must be. Hell, she's seen the weapons they brought into her apartment, and also recognized that where some people might be made uneasy by such a thing, she feels safer for having them around. The work they do can be dangerous. Hell, anything can be, and trouble has a tendency to follow her around — or maybe she just gets drawn to it. Regardless, it can only do them good.

"Then we'll definitely do relaxed. That's all the more reason, I think."

"Someone named Tony sent her a box filled with phallic decorations and sex toys," he says, glancing around the apartment to see if there's anything left behind. It's really just a cursory look, because John isn't the sort to leave any corner unchecked, and he's cleared out every last important crevice of this apartment. The rest, the furniture, the dishes, the things that were here when he arrived, they can stay exactly where they are now.

He hasn't had things in a very long time. Nothing besides his weapons.

"She was very adamant that's not something she's interested in," he says, laughing as he finally takes the dolly and begins to wheel it toward the apartment door. "And I'm not sure who Tony is, but he's invited to the party, despite his unusual gift choices."

"Oh, that would be Tony Stark," Karen says with an only slightly exaggerated groan, bringing one hand to her forehead. "Same one who's a good friend of mine. The guy who runs Panoptes." It doesn't actually surprise her at all that Tony would do something like that, probably because he probably knows that Peggy isn't interested in something like that. She loves him dearly, but his humor isn't always the most mature.

For one split second, she lets herself consider that, if she ever gets married, she'll have to tell him in advance not to go to any trouble like that for her. Then she puts the thought away, focusing on what's in front of them instead.

"This is going to be one hell of a bachelorette party."

"We'll see," John says with a laugh. He has to make sure it's what Peggy wants, no matter what Tony tries to do, so he thinks it might be a more sedate affair than that. Drinks and music and maybe pool and darts. Something as casual as possible.

"This is it, isn't it?" he asks, pausing by the door with the dolly. He shifts, slipping his hand against the small of Karen's back. The apartment was never anything special, it was just a place for him to store his things, but Karen's apartment is going to be different. It's going to be a place he shares with her. Something much more significant.

He feels good about that. He hopes she does, too.

"This is it," Karen says with a nod, smiling as she leans back just slightly against his hand. It's a big deal, taking a step like this, or at least it is to her. Though it wouldn't have bothered her one way or the other, it's nice to think that she isn't the only one of them for whom that's the case. This step is a big one, after all, one she's never taken with anyone else before. Doing so now just feels right, though, easier even than she would have expected. Whether that's a result of all the time they've spent together and nights at each other's places or just because of him, she doesn't know, but it probably doesn't make much difference. The feeling is the same regardless.

Looking over at him, she arches a brow, gently teasing. "Home sweet home?"

"Yeah," he says, then leans down to kiss Karen before he does anything else. The apartment doesn't have to mean anything to him for this to still be significant. Important. Taking this step is important without his previous residence having been a real home. John knows what he's been missing for a good part of his life. He doesn't need that to know what he's going to is so much better than what he's had.

This is a new chance. Carter had made that perfectly clear to him in the moments before his arrival. He knows it had been a hallucination, that he hadn't really seen her, but he'll still take the lesson she wanted to teach him.

When they part, he smiles fondly at Karen and then nods toward the elevator. "Let's go home."

"You know, I really like the sound of that," Karen says, smiling in turn as she starts towards the elevator. She really does, too. It just feels right, all of this, the way it has with him from the start, going back to the instinct that told her to trust him and stick around when he was taken to the hospital. It's strange to think about that now, stranger still to wonder what might have happened if someone else had stumbled across him on the beach that day.

No one did, though, so she supposes it doesn't make a difference. They wound up here. It's probably no crazier than anything else that's happened in Darrow, but it feels bizarrely fortunate all the same, lucky in a way she wouldn't have expected a place like this could entail.

"Probably a good sign, right?"

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