Fic: Going out with a bang- Part 1
I got the idea to write this after looking at the kink meme thread and reading the discussion about Finch and cubicle sex. (There's also a nod to the massage prompt.)
It started out as a quick one shot and quickly became something longer. (I think I'm incapable of writing really short fics.)
Title: Going out with a bang
Author: xgirl30
Characters/Pairing: Harold Finch, John Reese (briefly), OC/ Finch/OC pairing
Rating: PG to NC-17
Category: Missing scene, PWP
Warnings: None really except for mild spoilers for episode 1.2 "Ghosts"
Word count: 1150
Summary: After Reese blows his cover Finch makes his last day at the office one to remember
Two days before
Ever since his injury Harold Finch had alternated between good days and bad days. Today was not a good day. His spine felt like it had been replaced by a burning hot poker and his bad hip and leg were throbbing in sympathy with it. An ordinary, sensible person would have stayed home and called in sick. Finch wasn't an ordinary person.(Not to mention, keeping busy kept his mind off how bad he was feeling.)
“Morning, Harold.” Finch shifted slowly in his chair and tried not to wince visibly. “Good morning, Paul,” he said somewhat icily to his supervisor who was standing in the doorway of his cubicle. “I need a timeline for completion of that database to take to the direct reports meeting this afternoon,” Paul said. “A draft of what you've got done would be great too.” He smiled somewhat insincerely at Harold.
“I'll see what I can do.” Harold kept his face neutral all the while mentally adding to his list of reasons to have Paul Stevens fired. “I want to see those files in my inbox by 1:00.” Paul turned and walked away. Harold waited several moments and then gingerly turned back to his computer.
Shortly after taking this position Finch had hacked into the computer system and created an administrator account for himself. It was shielded from the prying eyes of IT and allowed him to monitor everything that went on with the company and it's employees. Finch made sure no one was nearby and then opened the Citrix client on his computer. He started a virtual session and logged into this account. A few keystrokes later he was looking at a report of everything Paul Stevens had done on his computer in the last week. (Thanks to tracking software and conveniently rerouted Websense logs.)
“Hi, Harold.” Finch jerked slightly in his seat, wincing at the sudden motion. He hit the hotkey that put an innocuous looking database up on his screen and turned painfully slowly. It was Lisbeth Colasanto, his cubicle neighbor and as close to a friend as he had at Ingram and Reynolds Software.
“Hello, Lisbeth.” Finch smiled slightly at her. Lisbeth Colasanto was in her mid thirties and had worked at Ingram and Reynolds for about eighteen months. She was tall and slim with short black hair that made her look somewhat like a flapper and bright, blue eyes. “Did I startle you?,” she asked. “I'm sorry about that.” She looked slightly sheepish. Finch also thought she had noticed he was in pain. “It's alright,” he said softly. “I wasn't expecting anyone to be there.” He looked at the area behind Lisbeth. “Mr. Stevens is in a meeting now if that's what you were worried about,” Lisbeth replied. They both knew his habit of lurking around and sneaking up behind people in the office.
“That's actually what I came over here to ask you about.” Lisbeth stepped further inside Finch's cube. “He's been riding everybody's ass lately and I wondered if he had words with you as well.” Finch closed his eyes and winced at a particularly bad neck spasm. “Yes. He spoke to me this morning.” He slowly raised a hand and touched the back of his neck.
“Are you alright?,” Lisbeth asked. Finch lowered his hand and looked at her. “Yes,” he replied. “I'm just a bit stiff today.” That was the understatement of the world. Lisbeth looked at him with slight concern but didn't push the issue. That was one of the things he liked about her. Not only was she an excellent programmer but she didn't ask personal questions he didn't want to answer or look at him with pity.
Lisbeth looked around to be sure no one was nearby. “If you want, I could rub your neck a bit,” she offered. “That always helps me after sleeping in a strange position and waking with a stiff neck.” They both knew this was much more than just sleeping on it wrong. Finch didn't feel the need to correct her though. He hesitated a moment, pushing away the image of Lisbeth in bed in a silky little gown. (He had no idea what she actually slept in but he thought a sexy, 40s style nightie suited her.) “I'm not sure it will do much good,” he replied, gasping softly at another spasm. “You could try though.” Ordinarily Finch found the idea of being touched rather repellant. (And the idea of being touched at work was unthinkable.) Today he was in enough pain that he was willing to accept it.
“Okay.” Lisbeth stepped behind Finch. “Maybe you should loosen your collar a bit.” Finch did so. “Let me know if I'm hurting you,” she said. She took a deep breath and gently began to massage his neck. She touched him very lightly at first, afraid of aggravating something or hurting him more. Finch closed his eyes and let his head slip forward a bit. Lisbeth moved her hands a bit lower and let one slip slightly inside his collar. She stopped when he stiffened under her touch. “Did I hurt you?”
Finch forced himself to relax. “No. Not anymore than it was.” Lisbeth hesitated a moment and then began the massage again. As she continued she became aware that the skin under her fingers was slightly raised and felt different than the surrounding area. Looking, she was able to make out the beginning of a scar. What exactly had happened to Harold Finch that had left him in this state?
“Hello, Harold, Lisbeth. Am I interrupting something?” Lisbeth abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned towards the door of the cubicle. Nancy Wheeler, the office busybody stood there with a smug look on her face. “Can I help you with something?,” Finch made no effort to hide the ice in his voice.
“I just wanted to see if you got Mr. Stevens' latest memo,” Nancy said. Finch turned slightly and looked at her. “I did,” he replied coolly. “Is there anything else?” Nancy shook her head. Finch turned back towards his computer summarily dismissing Nancy.
“I better be getting back to my cube,' Lisbeth said. She was already wondering what the repercussions would be for Nancy catching her and Finch in that somewhat compromising position. Surprisingly, Finch didn't look too concerned. “Thanks for your assistance,” he said. “Of course.” Lisbeth smiled at him and turned to leave the cubicle. Finch watched her go then pressed a couple keys on his keyboard and brought up the monitoring screen again. He typed a string of numbers and soon was looking at the logs for Nancy Wheeler.
It started out as a quick one shot and quickly became something longer. (I think I'm incapable of writing really short fics.)
Title: Going out with a bang
Author: xgirl30
Characters/Pairing: Harold Finch, John Reese (briefly), OC/ Finch/OC pairing
Rating: PG to NC-17
Category: Missing scene, PWP
Warnings: None really except for mild spoilers for episode 1.2 "Ghosts"
Word count: 1150
Summary: After Reese blows his cover Finch makes his last day at the office one to remember
Two days before
Ever since his injury Harold Finch had alternated between good days and bad days. Today was not a good day. His spine felt like it had been replaced by a burning hot poker and his bad hip and leg were throbbing in sympathy with it. An ordinary, sensible person would have stayed home and called in sick. Finch wasn't an ordinary person.(Not to mention, keeping busy kept his mind off how bad he was feeling.)
“Morning, Harold.” Finch shifted slowly in his chair and tried not to wince visibly. “Good morning, Paul,” he said somewhat icily to his supervisor who was standing in the doorway of his cubicle. “I need a timeline for completion of that database to take to the direct reports meeting this afternoon,” Paul said. “A draft of what you've got done would be great too.” He smiled somewhat insincerely at Harold.
“I'll see what I can do.” Harold kept his face neutral all the while mentally adding to his list of reasons to have Paul Stevens fired. “I want to see those files in my inbox by 1:00.” Paul turned and walked away. Harold waited several moments and then gingerly turned back to his computer.
Shortly after taking this position Finch had hacked into the computer system and created an administrator account for himself. It was shielded from the prying eyes of IT and allowed him to monitor everything that went on with the company and it's employees. Finch made sure no one was nearby and then opened the Citrix client on his computer. He started a virtual session and logged into this account. A few keystrokes later he was looking at a report of everything Paul Stevens had done on his computer in the last week. (Thanks to tracking software and conveniently rerouted Websense logs.)
“Hi, Harold.” Finch jerked slightly in his seat, wincing at the sudden motion. He hit the hotkey that put an innocuous looking database up on his screen and turned painfully slowly. It was Lisbeth Colasanto, his cubicle neighbor and as close to a friend as he had at Ingram and Reynolds Software.
“Hello, Lisbeth.” Finch smiled slightly at her. Lisbeth Colasanto was in her mid thirties and had worked at Ingram and Reynolds for about eighteen months. She was tall and slim with short black hair that made her look somewhat like a flapper and bright, blue eyes. “Did I startle you?,” she asked. “I'm sorry about that.” She looked slightly sheepish. Finch also thought she had noticed he was in pain. “It's alright,” he said softly. “I wasn't expecting anyone to be there.” He looked at the area behind Lisbeth. “Mr. Stevens is in a meeting now if that's what you were worried about,” Lisbeth replied. They both knew his habit of lurking around and sneaking up behind people in the office.
“That's actually what I came over here to ask you about.” Lisbeth stepped further inside Finch's cube. “He's been riding everybody's ass lately and I wondered if he had words with you as well.” Finch closed his eyes and winced at a particularly bad neck spasm. “Yes. He spoke to me this morning.” He slowly raised a hand and touched the back of his neck.
“Are you alright?,” Lisbeth asked. Finch lowered his hand and looked at her. “Yes,” he replied. “I'm just a bit stiff today.” That was the understatement of the world. Lisbeth looked at him with slight concern but didn't push the issue. That was one of the things he liked about her. Not only was she an excellent programmer but she didn't ask personal questions he didn't want to answer or look at him with pity.
Lisbeth looked around to be sure no one was nearby. “If you want, I could rub your neck a bit,” she offered. “That always helps me after sleeping in a strange position and waking with a stiff neck.” They both knew this was much more than just sleeping on it wrong. Finch didn't feel the need to correct her though. He hesitated a moment, pushing away the image of Lisbeth in bed in a silky little gown. (He had no idea what she actually slept in but he thought a sexy, 40s style nightie suited her.) “I'm not sure it will do much good,” he replied, gasping softly at another spasm. “You could try though.” Ordinarily Finch found the idea of being touched rather repellant. (And the idea of being touched at work was unthinkable.) Today he was in enough pain that he was willing to accept it.
“Okay.” Lisbeth stepped behind Finch. “Maybe you should loosen your collar a bit.” Finch did so. “Let me know if I'm hurting you,” she said. She took a deep breath and gently began to massage his neck. She touched him very lightly at first, afraid of aggravating something or hurting him more. Finch closed his eyes and let his head slip forward a bit. Lisbeth moved her hands a bit lower and let one slip slightly inside his collar. She stopped when he stiffened under her touch. “Did I hurt you?”
Finch forced himself to relax. “No. Not anymore than it was.” Lisbeth hesitated a moment and then began the massage again. As she continued she became aware that the skin under her fingers was slightly raised and felt different than the surrounding area. Looking, she was able to make out the beginning of a scar. What exactly had happened to Harold Finch that had left him in this state?
“Hello, Harold, Lisbeth. Am I interrupting something?” Lisbeth abruptly stopped what she was doing and turned towards the door of the cubicle. Nancy Wheeler, the office busybody stood there with a smug look on her face. “Can I help you with something?,” Finch made no effort to hide the ice in his voice.
“I just wanted to see if you got Mr. Stevens' latest memo,” Nancy said. Finch turned slightly and looked at her. “I did,” he replied coolly. “Is there anything else?” Nancy shook her head. Finch turned back towards his computer summarily dismissing Nancy.
“I better be getting back to my cube,' Lisbeth said. She was already wondering what the repercussions would be for Nancy catching her and Finch in that somewhat compromising position. Surprisingly, Finch didn't look too concerned. “Thanks for your assistance,” he said. “Of course.” Lisbeth smiled at him and turned to leave the cubicle. Finch watched her go then pressed a couple keys on his keyboard and brought up the monitoring screen again. He typed a string of numbers and soon was looking at the logs for Nancy Wheeler.