Fanfic: A Worthy Opponent, A Valuable Ally [Finch, Root & Nathan] [3/?]
Title: A Worthy Opponent, A Valuable Ally.
Author:
hotch_fan
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Harold Finch, Root and Nathan Ingram. -It's not what you think, I promise.-
Disclaimer: I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.
Spoilers: 1x23 "Firewall."
Summary: Root knows who they are, what they do and how they operate, but what else does she know?
Notes: Thanks to PJTL156 for the beta.
+ Chapter I - Chapter II
+++
Chapter III: A Bittersweet Reverie.
"I don't know, Nathan, there are so many things that could go wrong." A younger Harold Finch -Harold Wren then- told the man besides him; a concerned expression on his face.
Nathan chuckled softly, looking at his longtime friend. "Come on, Harold, it's just a couple of hours. What could go wrong?"
Harold turned his head toward his friend, an expression that clearly asked ´Do you really want me to answer that?´on his face.
"Okay, okay, I get it," Nathan started, raising both of his hands up, admitting defeat. "You're right, of course, but it's not like this would be the first time you'll do it anyway."
"No, it wouldn't be, but I've never done it alone; you were with me everytime I did it." Harold pointed out, giving Nathan a stern look.
"Come Harold, it's not like he's some over talkative brainless man who wants to speak with you, he's just a tiny little baby."
Harold just shook his head, looking from the sleeping baby to his friend, still uncertain.
"Okay, let me ask you something: How many books about babies have you read since I told you Harper was pregnant? Twenty? Thirty? At this point you are more prepared to look after Will than I am."
Harold rolled his eyes. "Nathan this serious; this is about your son's safety."
"And that's why I want you to look after him, Harold. There's no one I trust more than you." Nathan told him warmly. "Look, Harper really needs get out the house for a while, and to be honest, so do I, but with her mother back in DC, there's no one we can ask. We didn't call a babysitter because we don't want some strange woman looking after Will, even for a couple of hours, but I understand if you can't do it."
Harold drew his eyes away from Will to meet Nathan's gaze, sighing softly.
"You know I will do it, Nathan, I just... I'm afraid something bad could happen while I'm with him, I suppose," Finch finished awkwardly.
"Harold, nothing is going to happend. At this age he just sleeps most of the time, Harper just fed him a couple minutes ago, so you may no even be here when he needs another bottle, and you already know how to give him one anyway. You'll be fine." Nathan reassured his friend, a small smile on his lips.
Harold drew a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Okay... Yes, of course. I'll be fine. We'll be fine."
"You have nothing to worry about. I will have my cell phone with me the whole time, and if something happens I'll be back here in ten minutes."
Harold arched an eyebrow. "Ten minutes, on a Saturday night in the middle of New York?"
"I have my ways, you know," Nathan teased, winking at him.
Harold's smile widened while shaking his head at his friend's unique sense of humor.
"I need to go hustle Harper or we'll never leave. I'll be right back." Nathan called, before disappearing up the stairs.
Alone, Harold turned his gaze back to Will's sleeping form. He was so fragile, so innocent to the chaotic world he had come into. Harold's smile decreased. It was preposterous to even think that innocence could remain with him forever, and with the way the world worked now, it could harm him instead of doing any good to him. He know it better than anyone.
Suddenly, Harold reached out, caressing Will's small hand with the soft touch of his own.
"We'll be okay." Harold whispered, a tender smile on his lips watching the soft rise and fall of the baby's little chest.
/***/
Finch smiled warmly at the memory. Will had been only 5 months old then, and he had been genuinely terrified of not being able to take good care of him by himself, but just as Nathan had anticipated, nothing had gone wrong and Will had slept most of the time.
Will. Finch's smile vanished and his breath caught in his throat as the thought that he might never see him again filled his mind. Finch closed his eyes against the tide of emotions that swept through him.
Drawing a shaking breath, Finch struggled to remember the last time he had spoken with him. It was around five months ago; the same night he and Mr. Reese had handled baby Leila back to her Grandparents. The memories had been so fresh, and regardless of the late hour Finch had called him. They hadn't been able to talk long, though. Will had still been telling him about his 'new job' when he heard sudden noises in the background, followed by Will's muffled directions to whoever was there with him, and Will had returned to the phone only to tell him he had to go.
Finch felt a deep pain in his chest when he remembered the last thing he had told him.
"Alright, I'll call you soon."
Not 'I love you' or 'take care', but a cold and rushed 'I'll call you soon' Those would be the last words Will would remember from him.
Finch didn't even had the time to think it over because the thoughts were snatched away from his mind when the noise of a lock being opened filled the small room, followed just moments later by the unmistakable sound of heels tapping against the concrete floor as Root stepped inside.
Finch tensed, pushing the thoughts of Will away. He needed to stay focused and alert.
"Hey, I'm back." Root started, closing the door behind her. "And, I brought you something."
Finch sat still, waiting for her to stand before him to see what she had ´brought´ him.
She was holding a white paper plate and a bottle of water.
Watching her, Finch wet his dry lips. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until now. He didn't show it though, or at least tried not to. At this point he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not. Regarding the food... he wasn't really hungry. He always tended to lose his appetite when he was under a considerable amount of stress, and, well, the situation he was in fell into that exact category.
"You must be hungry, right? Here," Root said placing the paper plate over Finch's lap, her hand brushing against his thighs unintentionally, making Finch's whole body tense, a breath catching in his throat.
Root didn't notice or chose not to mention it. Probably the latter, Finch assumed. She pulled back, the bottle of water still on her hand.
"I hope you're not lactose intolerant or something like that."
Finch blinked at her, his expression blank before dropping his gaze to the plate on his lap. In it was a grilled cheese sandwich cut in halves. Cooked; Finch could tell by the golden brown tone of the bread.
"I know you can't eat with your hands tied, so I'm gonna release them for a little bit." Root looked at him in the eye, a warning gleam in her gaze. "Can I trust you wouldn't do anything silly, Harold?"
Finch looked at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Even if he wasn't hungry, he knew he should eat the food she was offering him. He didn't know how much time would pass until she decided to give him more, or if she would even do it again. Deprive someone of food and water was a commonly known strategy to get information out of ´uncooperative´ people. Though perhaps that strategy was one of the less grievous there was, Finch thought soberly. After reading every redacted file he found from Mr. Reese's assignments, he could think of several worse interrogation tactics she could use with him. He shuddered just thinking about it.
Finch was brought out of his thoughts by the sudden soft touch of Root's hands on his own, gently untying the rope around his wrists.
The knot on the rope was tight, so it took her a moment to untied it, letting the rope fall to the floor.
Slowly, Finch moved his arms forward, the pain the small movement caused making him wince. He rubbed the sore skin of his wrists softly, watching the red marks left by the rope.
In an efficient and quick motion, Root yanked his hands forward, placing a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, locking them with an audible click.
Finch drifted his gaze toward her, a confused expression on his face. "I thought you said-"
"You can't expect me to trust you wouldn't try anything, Harold." Root started, an amused glint in her eyes. "You've been working with John for how long? A year maybe? I'm sure you've picked up some of his tricks."
Finch felt the corner of his lips curl up sourly. He really should have allowed Mr. Reese to teach him some self-defense moves when he offered. Somehow he doubted that ´Poke her in the eyes´ would help him in this situation.
Root's smile widened, watching Finch. "Something funny?"
His expression going instantly blank, Finch pressed his lips into a tight line. He really needed to be more careful with his thoughts and reactions. He did not like how easily she was picking them up.
Without further comments, Root took the bottle of water she had left on the empty chair, and sat down.
Uncertain, Finch eyed the the food on the plate. He should eat it, he knew, but there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind: What if she had put something in it?
As if reading his mind, Root smiled, cradling the bottle on her hands. "Don't worry, I didn't put anything in it." At Finch's still uncertain glance, she added. "I know there's no reason for you trust me, but let me put it this way: If I wanted to drug you, I wouldn't have to hide it on the food or the water, I could just stick a needle in you anytime I wanted."
Finch diverted his gaze downwards. She was right and he knew it. She could do anything she wanted to him. Anything, and there was virtually nothing he could do to stop her. Finch drew a deep breath. He truly did not want to follow that line of thought. At least not now.
With Root's gaze still on him, Finch picked up one half of the sandwich and took a bite. It wasn't bad.
She was silent for a moment, watching him. It wasn't until he had finished that half of the sandwich that she spoke.
"Do you want some water?" She asked, removing the screw cap from the bottle and, without waiting for an answer, handed it to him.
Finch took the bottle carefully between his cuffed hands and lifted it to his lips, gulping a large amount of water, almost emptying the bottle. He didn't know how long it had been since he had drank something, but he was so thirsty he could drink another bottle.
Root gave him a sympathetic look, taking the bottle back. "You really were thirsty, huh?"
Finch did not said anything, focusing instead on get his breath steady.
It wasn't until Finch had nearly finished the remaining half of the sandwich that Root spoke again.
"So," Root started, a smile forming on her lips. "have you thought about what I told you? Are you going to admit the truth, Harold? Are you ready to tell me what I want to hear?"
Finch remained silent for a moment, recalling her reaction when he had replied the first time. His answer hadn't changed, nor would change.
She was still waiting for an answer, so Finch drew in a deep breath and forced the words out.
"I cannot talk about something I don't know." Finch said, his voice quiet.
Finch watched a flash of anger in her eyes -just for a brief moment- before her face relaxed back into a smile.
"You are still with that, huh?" Root's voice was amused with a touch of annoyance. "I guess we can play for a little while, if that's what you want."
Finch relaxed slightly. That was not the reaction he had been expecting from her at all.
"You say you don't know anything about the system I'm talking about, right? So, let me ask you something." Root leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "How did you know ´Caroline Turing´ was in danger? How did you know I needed your help?"
You can find the rest of the chapters here or here.
+++
Author:
hotch_fan
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Harold Finch, Root and Nathan Ingram. -It's not what you think, I promise.-
Disclaimer: I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.
Spoilers: 1x23 "Firewall."
Summary: Root knows who they are, what they do and how they operate, but what else does she know?
Notes: Thanks to PJTL156 for the beta.
+ Chapter I - Chapter II
+++
Chapter III: A Bittersweet Reverie.
"I don't know, Nathan, there are so many things that could go wrong." A younger Harold Finch -Harold Wren then- told the man besides him; a concerned expression on his face.
Nathan chuckled softly, looking at his longtime friend. "Come on, Harold, it's just a couple of hours. What could go wrong?"
Harold turned his head toward his friend, an expression that clearly asked ´Do you really want me to answer that?´on his face.
"Okay, okay, I get it," Nathan started, raising both of his hands up, admitting defeat. "You're right, of course, but it's not like this would be the first time you'll do it anyway."
"No, it wouldn't be, but I've never done it alone; you were with me everytime I did it." Harold pointed out, giving Nathan a stern look.
"Come Harold, it's not like he's some over talkative brainless man who wants to speak with you, he's just a tiny little baby."
Harold just shook his head, looking from the sleeping baby to his friend, still uncertain.
"Okay, let me ask you something: How many books about babies have you read since I told you Harper was pregnant? Twenty? Thirty? At this point you are more prepared to look after Will than I am."
Harold rolled his eyes. "Nathan this serious; this is about your son's safety."
"And that's why I want you to look after him, Harold. There's no one I trust more than you." Nathan told him warmly. "Look, Harper really needs get out the house for a while, and to be honest, so do I, but with her mother back in DC, there's no one we can ask. We didn't call a babysitter because we don't want some strange woman looking after Will, even for a couple of hours, but I understand if you can't do it."
Harold drew his eyes away from Will to meet Nathan's gaze, sighing softly.
"You know I will do it, Nathan, I just... I'm afraid something bad could happen while I'm with him, I suppose," Finch finished awkwardly.
"Harold, nothing is going to happend. At this age he just sleeps most of the time, Harper just fed him a couple minutes ago, so you may no even be here when he needs another bottle, and you already know how to give him one anyway. You'll be fine." Nathan reassured his friend, a small smile on his lips.
Harold drew a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Okay... Yes, of course. I'll be fine. We'll be fine."
"You have nothing to worry about. I will have my cell phone with me the whole time, and if something happens I'll be back here in ten minutes."
Harold arched an eyebrow. "Ten minutes, on a Saturday night in the middle of New York?"
"I have my ways, you know," Nathan teased, winking at him.
Harold's smile widened while shaking his head at his friend's unique sense of humor.
"I need to go hustle Harper or we'll never leave. I'll be right back." Nathan called, before disappearing up the stairs.
Alone, Harold turned his gaze back to Will's sleeping form. He was so fragile, so innocent to the chaotic world he had come into. Harold's smile decreased. It was preposterous to even think that innocence could remain with him forever, and with the way the world worked now, it could harm him instead of doing any good to him. He know it better than anyone.
Suddenly, Harold reached out, caressing Will's small hand with the soft touch of his own.
"We'll be okay." Harold whispered, a tender smile on his lips watching the soft rise and fall of the baby's little chest.
/***/
Finch smiled warmly at the memory. Will had been only 5 months old then, and he had been genuinely terrified of not being able to take good care of him by himself, but just as Nathan had anticipated, nothing had gone wrong and Will had slept most of the time.
Will. Finch's smile vanished and his breath caught in his throat as the thought that he might never see him again filled his mind. Finch closed his eyes against the tide of emotions that swept through him.
Drawing a shaking breath, Finch struggled to remember the last time he had spoken with him. It was around five months ago; the same night he and Mr. Reese had handled baby Leila back to her Grandparents. The memories had been so fresh, and regardless of the late hour Finch had called him. They hadn't been able to talk long, though. Will had still been telling him about his 'new job' when he heard sudden noises in the background, followed by Will's muffled directions to whoever was there with him, and Will had returned to the phone only to tell him he had to go.
Finch felt a deep pain in his chest when he remembered the last thing he had told him.
"Alright, I'll call you soon."
Not 'I love you' or 'take care', but a cold and rushed 'I'll call you soon' Those would be the last words Will would remember from him.
Finch didn't even had the time to think it over because the thoughts were snatched away from his mind when the noise of a lock being opened filled the small room, followed just moments later by the unmistakable sound of heels tapping against the concrete floor as Root stepped inside.
Finch tensed, pushing the thoughts of Will away. He needed to stay focused and alert.
"Hey, I'm back." Root started, closing the door behind her. "And, I brought you something."
Finch sat still, waiting for her to stand before him to see what she had ´brought´ him.
She was holding a white paper plate and a bottle of water.
Watching her, Finch wet his dry lips. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until now. He didn't show it though, or at least tried not to. At this point he wasn't sure if he succeeded or not. Regarding the food... he wasn't really hungry. He always tended to lose his appetite when he was under a considerable amount of stress, and, well, the situation he was in fell into that exact category.
"You must be hungry, right? Here," Root said placing the paper plate over Finch's lap, her hand brushing against his thighs unintentionally, making Finch's whole body tense, a breath catching in his throat.
Root didn't notice or chose not to mention it. Probably the latter, Finch assumed. She pulled back, the bottle of water still on her hand.
"I hope you're not lactose intolerant or something like that."
Finch blinked at her, his expression blank before dropping his gaze to the plate on his lap. In it was a grilled cheese sandwich cut in halves. Cooked; Finch could tell by the golden brown tone of the bread.
"I know you can't eat with your hands tied, so I'm gonna release them for a little bit." Root looked at him in the eye, a warning gleam in her gaze. "Can I trust you wouldn't do anything silly, Harold?"
Finch looked at her for a moment before nodding slowly. Even if he wasn't hungry, he knew he should eat the food she was offering him. He didn't know how much time would pass until she decided to give him more, or if she would even do it again. Deprive someone of food and water was a commonly known strategy to get information out of ´uncooperative´ people. Though perhaps that strategy was one of the less grievous there was, Finch thought soberly. After reading every redacted file he found from Mr. Reese's assignments, he could think of several worse interrogation tactics she could use with him. He shuddered just thinking about it.
Finch was brought out of his thoughts by the sudden soft touch of Root's hands on his own, gently untying the rope around his wrists.
The knot on the rope was tight, so it took her a moment to untied it, letting the rope fall to the floor.
Slowly, Finch moved his arms forward, the pain the small movement caused making him wince. He rubbed the sore skin of his wrists softly, watching the red marks left by the rope.
In an efficient and quick motion, Root yanked his hands forward, placing a pair of handcuffs on his wrists, locking them with an audible click.
Finch drifted his gaze toward her, a confused expression on his face. "I thought you said-"
"You can't expect me to trust you wouldn't try anything, Harold." Root started, an amused glint in her eyes. "You've been working with John for how long? A year maybe? I'm sure you've picked up some of his tricks."
Finch felt the corner of his lips curl up sourly. He really should have allowed Mr. Reese to teach him some self-defense moves when he offered. Somehow he doubted that ´Poke her in the eyes´ would help him in this situation.
Root's smile widened, watching Finch. "Something funny?"
His expression going instantly blank, Finch pressed his lips into a tight line. He really needed to be more careful with his thoughts and reactions. He did not like how easily she was picking them up.
Without further comments, Root took the bottle of water she had left on the empty chair, and sat down.
Uncertain, Finch eyed the the food on the plate. He should eat it, he knew, but there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind: What if she had put something in it?
As if reading his mind, Root smiled, cradling the bottle on her hands. "Don't worry, I didn't put anything in it." At Finch's still uncertain glance, she added. "I know there's no reason for you trust me, but let me put it this way: If I wanted to drug you, I wouldn't have to hide it on the food or the water, I could just stick a needle in you anytime I wanted."
Finch diverted his gaze downwards. She was right and he knew it. She could do anything she wanted to him. Anything, and there was virtually nothing he could do to stop her. Finch drew a deep breath. He truly did not want to follow that line of thought. At least not now.
With Root's gaze still on him, Finch picked up one half of the sandwich and took a bite. It wasn't bad.
She was silent for a moment, watching him. It wasn't until he had finished that half of the sandwich that she spoke.
"Do you want some water?" She asked, removing the screw cap from the bottle and, without waiting for an answer, handed it to him.
Finch took the bottle carefully between his cuffed hands and lifted it to his lips, gulping a large amount of water, almost emptying the bottle. He didn't know how long it had been since he had drank something, but he was so thirsty he could drink another bottle.
Root gave him a sympathetic look, taking the bottle back. "You really were thirsty, huh?"
Finch did not said anything, focusing instead on get his breath steady.
It wasn't until Finch had nearly finished the remaining half of the sandwich that Root spoke again.
"So," Root started, a smile forming on her lips. "have you thought about what I told you? Are you going to admit the truth, Harold? Are you ready to tell me what I want to hear?"
Finch remained silent for a moment, recalling her reaction when he had replied the first time. His answer hadn't changed, nor would change.
She was still waiting for an answer, so Finch drew in a deep breath and forced the words out.
"I cannot talk about something I don't know." Finch said, his voice quiet.
Finch watched a flash of anger in her eyes -just for a brief moment- before her face relaxed back into a smile.
"You are still with that, huh?" Root's voice was amused with a touch of annoyance. "I guess we can play for a little while, if that's what you want."
Finch relaxed slightly. That was not the reaction he had been expecting from her at all.
"You say you don't know anything about the system I'm talking about, right? So, let me ask you something." Root leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "How did you know ´Caroline Turing´ was in danger? How did you know I needed your help?"
You can find the rest of the chapters here or here.
+++