Fanfic: The Brief Taste Of Happiness [Finch, Reese & Leila]
Title: The Brief Taste Of Happiness.
Author:
hotch_fan
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Harold Finch, John Reese, Leila and a bit of Carter.
Disclaimer: I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.
Spoilers: 1x17 "Baby Blue."
Summary: Where Carter has more to say to Finch and then, he goes back to the library, finding no sign of Reese and Leila.
Notes: Please, be aware I'm not a native speaker, and while the amazing PJTL156 was kind enough to beta for me, I still could had missed/left some mistakes, so feel free to point them out : )
*****
"... You have to feed her four or five times a day and you need to give her formula. Oh, and more importantly, you have to change her diaper frequently; every few hours or she'll get a diaper rash." Carter continued giving Finch instructions as they walked away from the store where they had met.
She turned her head toward the little man walking alongside her. "Do you or John even know how to change a diaper?"
Finch stopped in his tracks, turning his upper body to face her.
"This is not the first time I've taken care of a baby, Detective."
Carter arched an eyebrow. "What? You mean this isn't the first time you've kidnapped a baby?"
Finch gave her a blank look, lips pursed.
"Goodbye Detective." The billionaire said shortly before starting to walk away.
"Wait!" Carter called after him; efficiently stopping him as she closed the distance between them.
Carter stopped in front of him, looking into his eyes. "If you have any problems or need help with her, just... call me. Okay?"
Finch nodded shortly. He could hear the concern in her voice. "I will, Detective."
Carter watched as the little man limped away. Shaking her head, she walked to her car. She had an interview to do at St. Raymond's clinic. And, with those two less than ideal men taking care of the baby, the sooner the better.
/***/
Finch limped toward the library's door; a bag full of baby items in each hand.
This was the last thing he ever expected when he got Leila Smith's number this morning. And that alone was saying something, since his machine had taught him that anything and everything was possible. Though having a six-month-old baby in his library was... unexpected.
Looking at both sides of the street, he put one of the bags on the floor, opened the door, picked it up and stepped inside; awkwardly closing the door with his shoulder.
Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Finch pondered the idea of calling Reese and asking him to come down and help him with the bags. Carrying a six-month-old baby repeatedly over the last few hours hadn't done his back and neck any favors and he was starting to resent it. But just as quick as the thought had come he brushed it off. He wasn't about to start acting like an invalid. As long as he could keep going he would do it, regardless of the pain.
As expected, he climbed the stairs slower than usual. As he finally reached the room they used as base he looked around, finding no sign of Reese and Leila.
Stepping further inside, Finch put the bags on one of the desks; holding back the impulse to call for Reese, in case Leila was sleeping somewhere.
The improvised playpen he had built with his more... unappreciated books was empty and the old tie he had given Leila wasn't there either.
Lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes scanned around the room. Finch told himself not to worry, if something bad had happened Reese would have called him.
They had to be here, at the library... somewhere.
Without wasting more time, Finch started looking for them.
First, he looked into the small room they used as an infirmary, where all kind of medical supplies were kept. He had fixed it up after the incident with Theresa Whitaker, when she had sliced Reese's hand with a knife. Then he checked the numerous rooms filled with shelves and all different kinds of books, though he doubted he would find them there.
After checking the bathroom, the place where Reese kept his... well, arsenal, and even a large room he used as storage (filled with old computer equipment and books) he still couldn't find anything, Finch was ready to give up, go to his computer, and track the GPS from Reese's cell phone like he should have done from the beginning. He had even started to walk toward it when he remembered there was a place he hadn't checked yet.
Considering he used to stay overnight in the library quite often, he had fixed up one of the rooms in the library, just a few months before he found Reese.
The room had been painted with a light green color, and inside a comfortable bed had been placed along with a modest closet full of clothes and a few other furniture pieces.
He had been discreet about it, and was certain Mr. Reese had never seen him anywhere near the room, but it would be naïve to think Mr. Reese hadn't already analyzed every corner of the library on the times he had been there alone.
As he limped through the hallway leading to the room he noticed the door wasn't closed, as it should be, but rather slightly ajar. It seems he was right, Finch thought, pursing his lips.
Pushing the door open, he stopped dead in his tracks; his mouth hanging slightly open at the sight before him.
Reese was lying in the bed. Finch's bed. He was sound asleep with his arms protectively surrounding Leila's small frame as she slept atop his chest.
Finch blinked a few times, too startled to move just yet.
Still watching the scene before him, he noticed something red in Leila's hand. Frowning immediately, Finch limped closer, careful to avoid making any noise. He felt the corner of his lips curl up as he noticed Leila had fallen asleep with the maroon tie he had given her gripped between her little fingers.
Without a thought he reached out and stroked Leila's hair tenderly.
Standing there, Finch couldn't stop his eyes from wandering toward Reese's face. It was amazing how different he looked. How peaceful. The sharp lines at the corner of his mouth and eyes, as distinctive of him as his piercing gaze, were nowhere to be found. With the relaxed expression he even looked younger.
"You ever crave a more conventional life, Finch?"
Reese's words echoed inside Finch's head, as he looked at the way John was holding Leila's small form tightly between his arms.
Reese's voice had sounded distant, nostalgic and even with a touch of sorrow. He did crave a normal life, a family, but knew he would never have one. Whether for the sake of logic, since he was considered dead or as a way to punish himself, thinking he didn't deserve it after everything he had done, thinking of himself as a monster, who deserved nothing but misery and sorrow.
Finch paused, his brow drawing together. For John, this right now was the nearest thing to the life that he craved so much. This moment, holding in his arms a kidnapped baby in a dusty, old library that supposedly did not exist.
Finch licked his lips, feeling a sour taste in his mouth by the suddenly dark revelation. He himself had never longed for a child, or a family for that matter. But then, Will had been born and Nathan had named him as Will's godfather, giving him the child Harold never thought he would have. Finch felt his lips curl up. It was amazing, how in despite all the doubts he had had at the beginning, he wouldn't change having Will in his life for anything.
After a moment, feeling a faint blush beginning to creep up his neck, Finch averted his gaze. For someone who claimed to be a very private person, he wasn't being very respectful of Mr. Reese's privacy at the moment.
Looking anywhere but the bed, Finch's eyes came to rest on the bedside table. Right on the edge was Reese's gun and cell phone. Easy to reach in case he needed it, Finch thought dryly.
And it was exactly that sight and thought that shook Finch off his almost dazed state.
They still didn't know why the machine had given them Leila's number, who wanted to get rid of her or why. They should be working; trying to figure out what was going on, instead of doing... this. Whatever it was.
Finch looked back at Reese. He should wake him up; let him know he was here and just go back to work, but... Finch sighed. The truth was, there was nothing Reese could do right now. There was no one he could track or keep surveillance on. At least not until Detective Carter called with information, or the people from the clinic responded to the threat he had sent them for the anonymous donor's tax ID number.
Finch pursed his lips, and after a moment of hesitation, began to walk back the way he had come from.
Stopping at the door, Finch turned his upper body toward the pair, allowing the corners of his lips to curl up slightly, into a small, sad smile before leaving.
*****