He was so different at the office than he was at home. In the FBI he was abrupt, careful, annoyed, storming around with his clipped tones and I-don't-care attitude. He was a bully, he barked at them and made decisions and comments that she usually didn't agree with. It usually took all her willpower not to yell at him and hit his arm like she would if they were at home. At the office, she had to leave that to Nicole.

When they were at home, though, he was playful, less arrogant, though he was always cocky, undeniably sure of himself. He thought the most amusing thing in the world was to sneak up behind her and grab her hips where she was the most ticklish. He would leave her, doubled over, gasping for breath, head buried in his shirt, inhaling his soft scent.

Later, they would curl up in bed. He would be soft, warm as their limbs tangled together. Then, they would get up in the morning; get ready for work and leave, twenty minutes apart.

At the office, it could get awkward very quickly. His manner often threw her off, he was so different that often it took all she had to not shout "JOHN!" That was one of the other things. Inside, they were 'John' and 'Jessie'. Outside, he was 'Sir' and 'Pollock'. Outside, she was 'Mastriani', 'Agent', and one of 'The Little Ones'.

There could be no intimate moments between them for hours on end. He would stand close to her, lean over her shoulder; find any little, undetectable way to be close to her. Sometimes it frustrated her. Sometimes she felt like grabbing him by his perfectly placed tie, dragging him into a closet and messing up that annoyingly neat, FBI standard issue suit.

Of course, she had to ball up her fists, push away her personal feelings and focus on the job, because the sooner the job was done, the sooner she could be home with him.

He looked up from his desk and the mountain of paperwork he had there. He'd been going home earlier, and his paperwork had suffered. But it was worth it. Every moment was worth it. He cocked his head to the left as he heard her laugh come running down the hall, as though seeking him out.

He could close his eyes and see her perfectly. Dark red curls, full face, red tinted cheeks and the innocent eyes that completed her porcelain doll look. He could also call up the clouded look that occurred when she was having a vision, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him, the distinct twinkle in her eye as she scoured his body for his only tickle spot. Among these happy expressions, though there was the brief hurt, the softest trace of betrayal when he had to be tough with her at the office.

He hated to do that. He hated to be mean with her, to growl at her like he did Scott or Cortez. He wanted to make her smile, not frown. He made it up to her at home, though. He would give her extra hugs and kisses. He would cook her supper, massage her feet, make love to her in a way that he hoped showed her that he thought she was the most beautiful thing on Earth.

She always responded to his touch, to his gaze. Whether it was with a smile, or a blush, or different physical reaction, she always knew when he was looking. Even at work, she would give him meaningful glances, which would let him know that he'd been caught.

Somehow, she always looked different under the tacky fluorescent lights of the FBI building. For some reason, her lips looked fuller, her skin softer, her eyes more longing when he couldn't touch her. It's what made home all the more special, knowing that she was there, with her smile just for him.

I love Jess/Pollock. I know there are not many other supporters out there, but I adore them as a couple. I don't own Missing.