Person of Interest/Spooks | Finch/Reese, Lucas North
Title: right as rain
Fandom: Person of Interest/Spooks
Characters/Pairing(s): Harold Finch/John Reese, Lucas North, Joss Carter
Rating: PG
Warnings: -
Word Count:2.777
Words/Prompts Used: all of them
Summary: Finch decides to get John a partner to help with the numbers. John is absolutely fine with that, except that he’s not. Set vaguely in the second half of S1 of Person of Interest (no specific plotlines referenced). And is AU for Spooks, where Harry never got Lucas out of Russian prison.
Written for the gameofcards challenge #2 Break the Ice
under the weather
Whenever John closes his eyes he can still taste blood in his mouth and he remembers gasping for breath and all fading to black. So he doesn’t sleep much, just counts the books on the shelf closest to the sofa.
The numbers keep coming and they weigh on them. It makes both of them restless and irritable. It doesn’t help that John is not an easy patient and Finch is not a patient caretaker.
And yet…
John thinks he remembers Finch’s voice pulling at him from across a white fog - Don’t leave me, John - and the memory makes him smile to himself every time he looks at Finch.
right as rain
Weeks after the injury it still hurts when he breathes too deep and he thinks he covers it up well enough most of the time but Finch clearly knows, because some days it’s hard to imagine there’s anything left Finch doesn’t know about John. It probably ought to bother him but it doesn’t. And Finch knows that too.
Finch also knows what John’s reaction is going to be before he even makes the suggestion.
“Are you replacing me?” A quirk of the lips. A joke. They both know that’s not what’s happening. But what is happening feels almost as bad.
lightning fast
At least half the plan he makes up as he goes along and he can hear the strain in Finch’s voice through the earpiece. Getting in proves easy, getting by without Finch’s voice in his ear during those seven hours inside the prison is what tests him.
The man he’s looking for is malnourished and exhausted but when a guard shows up unexpectedly and John is a split second too slow to move, the man takes him out swiftly, efficiently.
He never even asks John’s name until after they’re out of Russia five days later, after complications were dealt with with varying success. And that’s what annoys John - he was really expecting to hate this Lucas North.
break the ice
“What makes you think I can be trusted?” Lucas asks Finch instead of any of the questions that must be swirling in his head about everything he’s just been told.
It’s the question John has been forcefully swallowing back down ever since Finch told him about planning to recruit a former MI-5 agent who’s spent the last nearly seven years in a Russian prison.
“And who would you betray us to, Mr North?” Finch asks, something sharp and bitter in his voice. “The Russians, who held you captive for years - tortured you? Or Harry Pearce, who failed to get you back? I think you have no one, Mr North. Let me give you something to wake up for in the morning.”
head in the clouds
Lucas has secret service training written in every twitch of his body, even when all he does is drink coffee or flip through a book. John knows what that’s like, knows how it sticks to you like sweat on a particularly humid summer day. Lucas is the most high-functioning wreck of a human being John has ever seen in all his years and that’s saying something. You don’t get into this kind of life without a few thoughts wired the wrong way and you don’t get out with any pieces left intact.
He wonders what Finch sees when he looks at Lucas. If it’s the same things he sees when looking at John.
And then he stops wondering because a number comes up and he has priorities and his own pointless jealousy isn’t one of them.
every cloud has a silver lining
The third number they work together turns into a challenge. They follow different leads, use different tactics, and Lucas gets to the number three seconds earlier - just in time to tackle her out of the way of a bullet, which ends up grazing his shoulder.
Finch looks as close to exasperated as he ever does and John grins at him, because if he had been asked, he could have told Finch that employing two trained killers with nothing to lose instead of just one, means twice as many close shaves.
His grin fades as Lucas casually removes his shirt to treat his shoulder. They knew about the tattoos - mementos of years in a hostile prison - but it’s the first time they see them, and for the first time John thinks he could have had it even worse, he too could be branded forever with visible reminders of the worst parts of his past too.
fair-weather friend
They get on just fine on the job. There’s a lot of squabbling, a lot of competitive showing off but it’s only in moments that don’t count, that drag past waiting for something life-threatening to finally happen. When things get real and harsh, they work like a well-oiled machine, and John has to admit, on some level it’s almost reassuring to have someone else around, who could save the day, should something happen to him.
It’s the hours in between that chafe.
The hours Lucas spends at the library reading Harold’s books, not just because he has nothing better to do, but because he actually wants to. And all those times Harold makes a reference that Lucas gets and John doesn’t. It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while a comment about art slips out and John would just let it hang between them but Lucas always responds. It shouldn’t matter but it does because the tightness in Finch’s neck visibly eases when that happens.
come rain or shine
What bothers John most is that Lucas asks no questions. He’s perfectly satisfied with what he’s told about the machine and he never tries to find out more about Finch or John than they are willing to share. Which either means he already knows, or he genuinely doesn’t care. John doesn’t know which he finds more unsettling.
Lucas smiles with unnatural ease and too often for someone who’s been through the things he has. He converses easily when asked and doesn’t shut down immediately when asked about himself. More than half his answers might be lies or distorted versions of the truth but it takes a trained eye and luck to spot them. He also takes the night off occasionally and when he does he goes completely off the grid for a few hours. John doesn’t know where he goes, but he suspects Finch does because he doesn’t seem inclined to find out.
One morning, when they’re working different numbers that may or may not be connected, and they’re both stuck watching their respective numbers do boring jobs, John feels prickly enough to ask.
“Does Finch know where you went last night?”
“Yes, why?” There’s not even a moment’s hesitance in Lucas’ voice, no angle.
“How did he find out?”
“I told him.”
John is quiet. He’s listening, trying to figure out if Finch is listening in on their conversation.
“He’s a good man,” Lucas says. “Well, as good as they get anyway. We’ve both followed orders from far worse without question.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” John says.
“Neither do you, but you can still tell. You trust him with your life, so why not with the rest too?”
John presses his lips into a thin line and then says: “I’ll check out Moore’s flat while he’s at work.”
on cloud nine
The truly annoying part is, that if John ever asked, he’s sure Lucas would even tell him where he goes those handful of times he turns his phone off for a few hours. Instead, John follows him one Sunday morning for hours. Lucas can clearly tell he has a tail, because he’s better than anyone John has ever worked with, but John knows how to stay hidden just enough. Eventually, he gets lucky, or Lucas just gets bored of this game and finally heads to where he was going in the first place.
John waits outside the flat for an hour. Once Lucas is gone, he walks up to the door and knocks. It’s opened by a red-haired woman in her underwear and a loose, unbuttoned man’s shirt.
“Come in,” she says in an annoyed voice, letting down the gun she’s holding. “He said you’d come. Don’t have all day, though, have another client at 2.”
“He knew I was following him?” John asks, taking in the flat. It’s small, cosy in a simple, understated sort of way. There’s a punching bag in one of the corners and boxing gloves on the floor under it.
“He said if it wasn’t a morose-looking man in a suit, I should shoot on sight,” she shrugs and expertly secures her gun before putting it away. “That’s not a very specific description, if you ask me,” she adds and places her hands on her hips when she looks at John. “Are you into being tied up too?”
John’s certain he’s fast enough to cover up his surprise, but the girl smiles anyway. She has a broad smile, not exactly beautiful but alluring.
“No,” she says. “I think when you give up control it has to be exactly on your terms.”
“Is that what he’s into?” John asks, letting his eyes roam around the room again. Spotting the cable ties and the whip on the unmade bed. “Domination?”
“Why don’t you ask him if you want to know? I keep my client’s secrets, even when they give me permission to talk.”
John looks at her. “He told you to tell me?”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “I think you need to either start negotiating your sexual preferences or get the hell out.”
John nods and leaves.
steal my thunder
“You never said you had a partner,” is the first thing Carter says on the phone and John grits his teeth. “And he even has a name,” she sounds like she’s smiling. “A fake one, of course, but a name nonetheless. It would be only polite if you bothered to lie to me about your name too.”
“Lies reveal as much as the truth,” John finds himself saying and he lets his head drop back against the headrest of his car seat.
There’s a moment’s pause at the other end of the line. “You sound tired,” Carter says eventually, softly, like they’re friends. John hasn’t had one in… he’s not sure if he ever really had one. It’s what makes him perfect for this job.
“I need you to run a licence number for me,” he says.
“Already gave the name to Lucas - or whatever his name is. He’s nice. In that lethal sort of way,” she says. And then she adds, “I’m glad someone has your back.”
She hangs up right away, giving John a chance not to have to respond and it weighs on him that she cares. He lets his eyes close and allows himself a few moments just to breathe.
“Mr Reese?” The familiar voice in his ear makes him lean forward and cross his arms on the wheel and drop his head heavily on it. He doesn’t respond and it feels like a betrayal.
“Mr Reese, are you there?”
There’s a note of worry there. For the number or for him, John can’t be sure. He can never be sure.
“John?”
It makes his chest feel tight, whenever Finch says his first name, and he opens his mouth to respond, but before he could Lucas speaks.
“It’s alright, Finch. I’ve got her. The car was her stepfather’s, took him out and already called Fusco to clean up the mess. I’m going to take her to Carter now.”
John lifts his head and down the road, he sees Lucas come out of Tania Mills’ flat, gently but firmly leading the shaken young woman to his car.
“Very good, Mr North,” Finch says, voice calmer again. “Do you happen to know where Mr Reese is?”
Lucas looks in John’s direction, their eyes meet, and then he says:
“I think he deserves some time to himself, don’t you? Isn’t that the whole point of me?” he asks with a too easy smile in his voice.
“Very well,” Finch says a little stiffly and hangs up. Suddenly it feels empty inside John’s head, where Finch’s soft breathing on the other end of the line is always like a constant afterthought. He looks into Lucas’ eye, who gives him a little, pained smile and nods. John nods back. Maybe Carter was right, maybe he does need someone to have his back.
calm before the storm
It’s three am on a Saturday night and they’re all at the library. Finch can’t sleep because of the tension in his muscles, Lucas can’t sleep because of his nightmares, and John doesn’t sleep because he likes to keep them company.
Finch cooked them dinner and Lucas had to kick John under the table several times because he was grinning too obviously at this new revelation about their boss.
Now the two of them are playing some video game Lucas bought and John can’t be bothered to remember the name of, but there’s all sorts of shooting at zombies involved and it’s better than staring at the computer, waiting for another number to come up. Besides, Finch is making annoyed sounds in the back of his throat, while impatiently flipping the pages of his book and that somehow makes John feel loose with contentment.
And just when John thinks he could get used to this, the computer makes a sound and Finch says:
“New number has come up.”
take a raincheck
Things go bad fast. The number turns out to be a junkie caught up in a murder case and Lucas ends up having to go under the radar with him, while John does his best to keep both the police and the actual killers off their backs. Carter saves the day in the end, as so often, but not before John gets shot in the thigh.
“Getting shot is a nasty habit, you know,” she tells him in a stern, warm voice probably only reserved for her son and it makes John grin despite the pain.
Lucas drives him back to the library and helps him onto the sofa John already knows so well from previous injuries of various seriousness. In a way it’s comforting, the routine of it. But Finch’s tight look makes John shift uncomfortably. He’s not sure what he did wrong but Finch seems upset in his quiet, closed-up sort of way.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Lucas asks.
“I’m fine,” John says. “We could all have take-out for dinner- well, breakfast, I thought.”
He says it looking at Finch, but he just keeps staring at the floor.
“I should go,” Lucas says after a few moments. “I’ve got an addict about to hit withdrawal tied to by bed at home.”
“I’ll arrange a place for him in rehab,” Finch says and already moves to his computer, but Lucas stops him with a hand on his arm and it looks so easy, so natural, John has to swallow a frustrated groan.
“It’s alright, Finch, I’ve got this. He’ll just get deported if you do,” Lucas says.
“It doesn’t have to be your responsibility, Mr North. You already saved his life,” Finch says.
“Exactly,” Lucas shrugs with a smile. “Would be a shame to waste it. Besides, everyone needs a hobby.”
He looks at John and holds his gaze for a moment too long before walking out of the library. John shifts a little when they’re alone, unsure what to say. Finch looks tense and tired.
“You need to stop doing this,” he says suddenly, angrily and John blinks in surprise.
“I’m not exactly doing it on purpose.”
Finch sighs and nods. “I know.” He sits down in the chair next to the sofa and John fights the urge to reach out. They’re quiet for a while and it’s not comfortable and easy as it usually is. It’s charged with tension and silence.
“I think Mr North left to let us discuss certain things that need to be said,” Finch finally says.
John swallows. “I don’t know how to…”
Finch nods. His hands are restless on his knees. Suddenly, John feels inexplicably brave and reaches out to squeeze Finch’s hand. They both go very still and John’s heart beats faster than it did during the shootout last night.
“You can’t die, John,” Finch says quietly, voice shaking with the intensity of his emotions. “I need you.”
John nods and smiles, chest tight in a not entirely unpleasant way. “Alright, Harold. I won’t, then.”
Fandom: Person of Interest/Spooks
Characters/Pairing(s): Harold Finch/John Reese, Lucas North, Joss Carter
Rating: PG
Warnings: -
Word Count:2.777
Words/Prompts Used: all of them
Summary: Finch decides to get John a partner to help with the numbers. John is absolutely fine with that, except that he’s not. Set vaguely in the second half of S1 of Person of Interest (no specific plotlines referenced). And is AU for Spooks, where Harry never got Lucas out of Russian prison.
Written for the gameofcards challenge #2 Break the Ice
under the weather
Whenever John closes his eyes he can still taste blood in his mouth and he remembers gasping for breath and all fading to black. So he doesn’t sleep much, just counts the books on the shelf closest to the sofa.
The numbers keep coming and they weigh on them. It makes both of them restless and irritable. It doesn’t help that John is not an easy patient and Finch is not a patient caretaker.
And yet…
John thinks he remembers Finch’s voice pulling at him from across a white fog - Don’t leave me, John - and the memory makes him smile to himself every time he looks at Finch.
right as rain
Weeks after the injury it still hurts when he breathes too deep and he thinks he covers it up well enough most of the time but Finch clearly knows, because some days it’s hard to imagine there’s anything left Finch doesn’t know about John. It probably ought to bother him but it doesn’t. And Finch knows that too.
Finch also knows what John’s reaction is going to be before he even makes the suggestion.
“Are you replacing me?” A quirk of the lips. A joke. They both know that’s not what’s happening. But what is happening feels almost as bad.
lightning fast
At least half the plan he makes up as he goes along and he can hear the strain in Finch’s voice through the earpiece. Getting in proves easy, getting by without Finch’s voice in his ear during those seven hours inside the prison is what tests him.
The man he’s looking for is malnourished and exhausted but when a guard shows up unexpectedly and John is a split second too slow to move, the man takes him out swiftly, efficiently.
He never even asks John’s name until after they’re out of Russia five days later, after complications were dealt with with varying success. And that’s what annoys John - he was really expecting to hate this Lucas North.
break the ice
“What makes you think I can be trusted?” Lucas asks Finch instead of any of the questions that must be swirling in his head about everything he’s just been told.
It’s the question John has been forcefully swallowing back down ever since Finch told him about planning to recruit a former MI-5 agent who’s spent the last nearly seven years in a Russian prison.
“And who would you betray us to, Mr North?” Finch asks, something sharp and bitter in his voice. “The Russians, who held you captive for years - tortured you? Or Harry Pearce, who failed to get you back? I think you have no one, Mr North. Let me give you something to wake up for in the morning.”
head in the clouds
Lucas has secret service training written in every twitch of his body, even when all he does is drink coffee or flip through a book. John knows what that’s like, knows how it sticks to you like sweat on a particularly humid summer day. Lucas is the most high-functioning wreck of a human being John has ever seen in all his years and that’s saying something. You don’t get into this kind of life without a few thoughts wired the wrong way and you don’t get out with any pieces left intact.
He wonders what Finch sees when he looks at Lucas. If it’s the same things he sees when looking at John.
And then he stops wondering because a number comes up and he has priorities and his own pointless jealousy isn’t one of them.
every cloud has a silver lining
The third number they work together turns into a challenge. They follow different leads, use different tactics, and Lucas gets to the number three seconds earlier - just in time to tackle her out of the way of a bullet, which ends up grazing his shoulder.
Finch looks as close to exasperated as he ever does and John grins at him, because if he had been asked, he could have told Finch that employing two trained killers with nothing to lose instead of just one, means twice as many close shaves.
His grin fades as Lucas casually removes his shirt to treat his shoulder. They knew about the tattoos - mementos of years in a hostile prison - but it’s the first time they see them, and for the first time John thinks he could have had it even worse, he too could be branded forever with visible reminders of the worst parts of his past too.
fair-weather friend
They get on just fine on the job. There’s a lot of squabbling, a lot of competitive showing off but it’s only in moments that don’t count, that drag past waiting for something life-threatening to finally happen. When things get real and harsh, they work like a well-oiled machine, and John has to admit, on some level it’s almost reassuring to have someone else around, who could save the day, should something happen to him.
It’s the hours in between that chafe.
The hours Lucas spends at the library reading Harold’s books, not just because he has nothing better to do, but because he actually wants to. And all those times Harold makes a reference that Lucas gets and John doesn’t. It doesn’t happen often, but every once in a while a comment about art slips out and John would just let it hang between them but Lucas always responds. It shouldn’t matter but it does because the tightness in Finch’s neck visibly eases when that happens.
come rain or shine
What bothers John most is that Lucas asks no questions. He’s perfectly satisfied with what he’s told about the machine and he never tries to find out more about Finch or John than they are willing to share. Which either means he already knows, or he genuinely doesn’t care. John doesn’t know which he finds more unsettling.
Lucas smiles with unnatural ease and too often for someone who’s been through the things he has. He converses easily when asked and doesn’t shut down immediately when asked about himself. More than half his answers might be lies or distorted versions of the truth but it takes a trained eye and luck to spot them. He also takes the night off occasionally and when he does he goes completely off the grid for a few hours. John doesn’t know where he goes, but he suspects Finch does because he doesn’t seem inclined to find out.
One morning, when they’re working different numbers that may or may not be connected, and they’re both stuck watching their respective numbers do boring jobs, John feels prickly enough to ask.
“Does Finch know where you went last night?”
“Yes, why?” There’s not even a moment’s hesitance in Lucas’ voice, no angle.
“How did he find out?”
“I told him.”
John is quiet. He’s listening, trying to figure out if Finch is listening in on their conversation.
“He’s a good man,” Lucas says. “Well, as good as they get anyway. We’ve both followed orders from far worse without question.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” John says.
“Neither do you, but you can still tell. You trust him with your life, so why not with the rest too?”
John presses his lips into a thin line and then says: “I’ll check out Moore’s flat while he’s at work.”
on cloud nine
The truly annoying part is, that if John ever asked, he’s sure Lucas would even tell him where he goes those handful of times he turns his phone off for a few hours. Instead, John follows him one Sunday morning for hours. Lucas can clearly tell he has a tail, because he’s better than anyone John has ever worked with, but John knows how to stay hidden just enough. Eventually, he gets lucky, or Lucas just gets bored of this game and finally heads to where he was going in the first place.
John waits outside the flat for an hour. Once Lucas is gone, he walks up to the door and knocks. It’s opened by a red-haired woman in her underwear and a loose, unbuttoned man’s shirt.
“Come in,” she says in an annoyed voice, letting down the gun she’s holding. “He said you’d come. Don’t have all day, though, have another client at 2.”
“He knew I was following him?” John asks, taking in the flat. It’s small, cosy in a simple, understated sort of way. There’s a punching bag in one of the corners and boxing gloves on the floor under it.
“He said if it wasn’t a morose-looking man in a suit, I should shoot on sight,” she shrugs and expertly secures her gun before putting it away. “That’s not a very specific description, if you ask me,” she adds and places her hands on her hips when she looks at John. “Are you into being tied up too?”
John’s certain he’s fast enough to cover up his surprise, but the girl smiles anyway. She has a broad smile, not exactly beautiful but alluring.
“No,” she says. “I think when you give up control it has to be exactly on your terms.”
“Is that what he’s into?” John asks, letting his eyes roam around the room again. Spotting the cable ties and the whip on the unmade bed. “Domination?”
“Why don’t you ask him if you want to know? I keep my client’s secrets, even when they give me permission to talk.”
John looks at her. “He told you to tell me?”
She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “I think you need to either start negotiating your sexual preferences or get the hell out.”
John nods and leaves.
steal my thunder
“You never said you had a partner,” is the first thing Carter says on the phone and John grits his teeth. “And he even has a name,” she sounds like she’s smiling. “A fake one, of course, but a name nonetheless. It would be only polite if you bothered to lie to me about your name too.”
“Lies reveal as much as the truth,” John finds himself saying and he lets his head drop back against the headrest of his car seat.
There’s a moment’s pause at the other end of the line. “You sound tired,” Carter says eventually, softly, like they’re friends. John hasn’t had one in… he’s not sure if he ever really had one. It’s what makes him perfect for this job.
“I need you to run a licence number for me,” he says.
“Already gave the name to Lucas - or whatever his name is. He’s nice. In that lethal sort of way,” she says. And then she adds, “I’m glad someone has your back.”
She hangs up right away, giving John a chance not to have to respond and it weighs on him that she cares. He lets his eyes close and allows himself a few moments just to breathe.
“Mr Reese?” The familiar voice in his ear makes him lean forward and cross his arms on the wheel and drop his head heavily on it. He doesn’t respond and it feels like a betrayal.
“Mr Reese, are you there?”
There’s a note of worry there. For the number or for him, John can’t be sure. He can never be sure.
“John?”
It makes his chest feel tight, whenever Finch says his first name, and he opens his mouth to respond, but before he could Lucas speaks.
“It’s alright, Finch. I’ve got her. The car was her stepfather’s, took him out and already called Fusco to clean up the mess. I’m going to take her to Carter now.”
John lifts his head and down the road, he sees Lucas come out of Tania Mills’ flat, gently but firmly leading the shaken young woman to his car.
“Very good, Mr North,” Finch says, voice calmer again. “Do you happen to know where Mr Reese is?”
Lucas looks in John’s direction, their eyes meet, and then he says:
“I think he deserves some time to himself, don’t you? Isn’t that the whole point of me?” he asks with a too easy smile in his voice.
“Very well,” Finch says a little stiffly and hangs up. Suddenly it feels empty inside John’s head, where Finch’s soft breathing on the other end of the line is always like a constant afterthought. He looks into Lucas’ eye, who gives him a little, pained smile and nods. John nods back. Maybe Carter was right, maybe he does need someone to have his back.
calm before the storm
It’s three am on a Saturday night and they’re all at the library. Finch can’t sleep because of the tension in his muscles, Lucas can’t sleep because of his nightmares, and John doesn’t sleep because he likes to keep them company.
Finch cooked them dinner and Lucas had to kick John under the table several times because he was grinning too obviously at this new revelation about their boss.
Now the two of them are playing some video game Lucas bought and John can’t be bothered to remember the name of, but there’s all sorts of shooting at zombies involved and it’s better than staring at the computer, waiting for another number to come up. Besides, Finch is making annoyed sounds in the back of his throat, while impatiently flipping the pages of his book and that somehow makes John feel loose with contentment.
And just when John thinks he could get used to this, the computer makes a sound and Finch says:
“New number has come up.”
take a raincheck
Things go bad fast. The number turns out to be a junkie caught up in a murder case and Lucas ends up having to go under the radar with him, while John does his best to keep both the police and the actual killers off their backs. Carter saves the day in the end, as so often, but not before John gets shot in the thigh.
“Getting shot is a nasty habit, you know,” she tells him in a stern, warm voice probably only reserved for her son and it makes John grin despite the pain.
Lucas drives him back to the library and helps him onto the sofa John already knows so well from previous injuries of various seriousness. In a way it’s comforting, the routine of it. But Finch’s tight look makes John shift uncomfortably. He’s not sure what he did wrong but Finch seems upset in his quiet, closed-up sort of way.
“Do you need anything before I go?” Lucas asks.
“I’m fine,” John says. “We could all have take-out for dinner- well, breakfast, I thought.”
He says it looking at Finch, but he just keeps staring at the floor.
“I should go,” Lucas says after a few moments. “I’ve got an addict about to hit withdrawal tied to by bed at home.”
“I’ll arrange a place for him in rehab,” Finch says and already moves to his computer, but Lucas stops him with a hand on his arm and it looks so easy, so natural, John has to swallow a frustrated groan.
“It’s alright, Finch, I’ve got this. He’ll just get deported if you do,” Lucas says.
“It doesn’t have to be your responsibility, Mr North. You already saved his life,” Finch says.
“Exactly,” Lucas shrugs with a smile. “Would be a shame to waste it. Besides, everyone needs a hobby.”
He looks at John and holds his gaze for a moment too long before walking out of the library. John shifts a little when they’re alone, unsure what to say. Finch looks tense and tired.
“You need to stop doing this,” he says suddenly, angrily and John blinks in surprise.
“I’m not exactly doing it on purpose.”
Finch sighs and nods. “I know.” He sits down in the chair next to the sofa and John fights the urge to reach out. They’re quiet for a while and it’s not comfortable and easy as it usually is. It’s charged with tension and silence.
“I think Mr North left to let us discuss certain things that need to be said,” Finch finally says.
John swallows. “I don’t know how to…”
Finch nods. His hands are restless on his knees. Suddenly, John feels inexplicably brave and reaches out to squeeze Finch’s hand. They both go very still and John’s heart beats faster than it did during the shootout last night.
“You can’t die, John,” Finch says quietly, voice shaking with the intensity of his emotions. “I need you.”
John nods and smiles, chest tight in a not entirely unpleasant way. “Alright, Harold. I won’t, then.”