Aftermath- Part 1
Title: Aftermath
Category: Drama, H/C
Rating: PG-13
Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch
Disclaimer: POI belongs to Bad Robot Productions and it's creators. I make no profit from this and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Spoilers for "Number Crunch"
Word count: 1731
Summary: The aftermath of Reese being shot
Author's notes: This is kind of a dark fic. Lots of brooding and introspection. It wasn't written as slash but there are parts you could certainly take that way if you choose.
The title of this chapter came from an episode of Babylon 5. The Hour of the Wolf is allegedly, the hour between three and four in the morning when all worries are magnified and 'all you can hear is the sound of your own heart'.
Chapter 1: The Hour of the Wolf
3 AM. . The Hour of the Wolf. Harold Finch sat stiffly in a wing chair in the den of his country house. He sighed deeply and took a sip from the glass of brandy in his hand. He rarely drank anymore but tonight he needed it to settle his jangling nerves.
The room was dark and quiet. The only light came from a brass banker's lamp on the desk. Finch watched shadows dance on the walls. Specters, easily mirroring the ones in his mind. Directly across from him hung a picture of himself and Ingram. It had been taken at one of the few public events he had attended while developing the Machine.
They both were dressed in tuxes and looked very happy. (And a little drunk.) Finch thought he had looked ridiculous, even though Ingram had told him otherwise. He sighed again and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. How could it have gone so wrong? How could he have not known sooner that it was a setup and Carter was going to betray them? He knew it wasn't really his fault but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow.
He was supposed to see everything and know everything. He was supposed to get the information they needed in advance. This time he had failed. Thankfully the mistake hadn't been fatal. Reese was alive and although not out of the woods yet, he would recover.
Finch took another sip of his brandy.He thought back on the evening. It seemed like ages since everything had happened even though it had just been hours.
As soon as they were safely on the way to the country house he had called Dr. Tillman. It had taken some convincing but eventually he had gotten her to agree to meet them there and take care of Reese. He had first thought of driving them to a hospital but quickly discarded the idea as unsafe. Detective Carter wouldn't have been a problem but he couldn't say the same for the men who had shot Reese. They were still at large and likely still looking for them. Considering what had gone down, hospitals would be the first places they would look.
The country house seemed a safe enough place to go. No one (alive) besides his men knew he owned it. Finch had recovered there after his accident and he hoped Reese would be able to do the same.
Earlier that evening
“Don't you die.Don't you dare die.” Finch drove as fast as he safely could. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled over for speeding. Not now when every second counted. “Don't you die,” he repeated. Next to him, Reese was slumped over. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly labored. He also looked way too pale for Finch's liking.“Hang in there,” Finch murmured. His hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel. It was his fault this had happened. He should have monitored Carter more carefully and realized sooner she was being used. He had failed again. Just like he had failed Matt Duggan. Hopefully this failure wouldn't lead to another death on his hands and conscience.
“If you die I'll have to find someone else to help continue our work,” Finch said.“That would be very inconvenient. You wouldn't put me through that,would you?” Finch knew his words may sound rather cold but at this point it was either be calculating or be hysterical and he preferred the former.
Reese groaned softly. “Don't try to talk,” Finch said. “Just relax. We're almost there.” He turned the car off the expressway. “I called Dr. Tillman,” he continued. “She agreed to take care of you.You're going to be just fine.” Finch wished he totally believed that.
A few minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a large, two storey house. It was brick with freshly painted white trim. The yard was neatly manicured and there were flowers in the flower boxes. Finch hadn't been there in over a year but he still made sure the property was cared for and ready to be reoccupied if necessary. A black car sat in the driveway. Finch parked behind it. He had called his bodyguards/assistants Jim and Peter after finishing with Dr. Tillman and it was they who got out of the first car and came to carry Reese into the house. “Take him into the second bedroom,” Finch directed.
Once Reese was settled on the bed he told Jim to stand guard at the front of thehouse and watch for Dr. Tillman. He dispatched Peter to get the first aid supplies from the storage closet and set to the task of removing Reese's bloody shirt. “Don't you die on me,” Finch repeated as he slowly undid the buttons. “Don't you die on me, you hear me?”Reese moaned softly when Finch gently pulled the shirt from his waistband but otherwise gave no sign of hearing him.
“I wasn't sure what you needed so I brought everything.” Finch turned as Peter entered the room carrying a large box. “Thank you.” Peter set the box on a table near the bed and Finch went over to it. He had recovered from his injuries in this house once he was strong enough to leave the hospital. His private nurses had needed a variety of medical supplies and the box contained the ones that hadn't been used. Finch put on a pair of rubber gloves and took out some large gauze pads. “We need to see if we can stop the bleeding,” he said. He pressed the pads to Reese's wounds, frowning at how fast they became soaked with blood. This was not good. It was not good at all. Just then Jim entered the room followed by Dr. Tillman. Finch's relief was palpable. “Thank goodness you're here,” he said.
“Do I really want to know what happened to him?,” Tillman asked.
“Probably not,”Finch replied. He waited in the hallway while Tillman removed the bullets and bandaged Reese's wounds. “How is he?,” he asked when she finally came out. “Lucky,” Tillman replied. “The bullets didn't hit any major organs and I was able to get both of them out.”
“Thank God,”Finch replied, gratefully. “He has lost a lot of blood though,”Tillman said. “If he was at a hospital I would order a transfusion for him.” Finch thought for a moment. “That might not be out of the question.” Tillman looked at him, not quite understanding. “How can he have a transfusion here? You don't have the equipment, not to mention a supply of blood.”
Finch led Tillman back into the bedroom. “I recuperated in this house after my..accident. I should still have everything you need here.” He unbuttoned his cuff and began to roll up his sleeve. “As for the blood, Mr. Reese is B+. Coincidentally, so am I.” Tillman looked at Finch. “You know his blood type?” Finch nodded. “I make it a point to know everything about my employees, Dr. Tillman.”
Tillman went over to the box and found the tubing and needles she needed, all still in sealed packages. Finch sat in a chair by the bed and watched as the blood flowed from him into Reese. He had no hesitation about giving him this gift. He just hoped it would be enough.
Some time later Tillman came back in the room and removed the needle from his arm.She placed a bandage over the puncture mark on his arm and then went and did the same for Reese. She told Finch he should take it easy for a while and have something to eat to get his strength back. “Is he going to be okay?,” Finch asked. “He's not out of the woods yet but I believe he will be,” Tillman replied. That was some comfort to Finch but it didn't put his mind totally at ease.
"Thank you for everything you've done," Finch said. "Of course," Tillman replied. She still looked like she was wondering what she had gotten herself into. Finch was just glad she had been willing to come out there.
Once Tillman had left, Finch reached out and took Reese's hand. “You're going to be alright,” he murmured. Reese had been given a sedative and pain medication and was completely unresponsive.
In the den, Finch shifted painfully in his chair. He had sat with Reese for several hours and then finally gone and gotten into his pajamas. Then he had come in here. He set his glass on the table next to him and stood with a groan. The events of the evening and the day before were really catching up with him. He also felt a bit weak from giving blood to Reese.
Finch moved over near the desk and then leaned on it for support when the room wavered in front of his eyes. He probably shouldn't have had that drink (and he knew Tillman would chide him for it if she knew about it), but he had felt that he needed it. The dizziness passed several minutes later and Finch slowly made his way back to Reese's room.
The ex-CIA agent was still out cold. His face was pale but now there was a hint of color returning to his cheeks. Finch went over to the bed and sank down heavily in the chair next to it. He adjusted the tie on his robe and then reached for Reese's hand. He squeezed it gently and then sat back to continue his quiet vigil.
Category: Drama, H/C
Rating: PG-13
Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch
Disclaimer: POI belongs to Bad Robot Productions and it's creators. I make no profit from this and no copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: Spoilers for "Number Crunch"
Word count: 1731
Summary: The aftermath of Reese being shot
Author's notes: This is kind of a dark fic. Lots of brooding and introspection. It wasn't written as slash but there are parts you could certainly take that way if you choose.
The title of this chapter came from an episode of Babylon 5. The Hour of the Wolf is allegedly, the hour between three and four in the morning when all worries are magnified and 'all you can hear is the sound of your own heart'.
Chapter 1: The Hour of the Wolf
3 AM. . The Hour of the Wolf. Harold Finch sat stiffly in a wing chair in the den of his country house. He sighed deeply and took a sip from the glass of brandy in his hand. He rarely drank anymore but tonight he needed it to settle his jangling nerves.
The room was dark and quiet. The only light came from a brass banker's lamp on the desk. Finch watched shadows dance on the walls. Specters, easily mirroring the ones in his mind. Directly across from him hung a picture of himself and Ingram. It had been taken at one of the few public events he had attended while developing the Machine.
They both were dressed in tuxes and looked very happy. (And a little drunk.) Finch thought he had looked ridiculous, even though Ingram had told him otherwise. He sighed again and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. How could it have gone so wrong? How could he have not known sooner that it was a setup and Carter was going to betray them? He knew it wasn't really his fault but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow.
He was supposed to see everything and know everything. He was supposed to get the information they needed in advance. This time he had failed. Thankfully the mistake hadn't been fatal. Reese was alive and although not out of the woods yet, he would recover.
Finch took another sip of his brandy.He thought back on the evening. It seemed like ages since everything had happened even though it had just been hours.
As soon as they were safely on the way to the country house he had called Dr. Tillman. It had taken some convincing but eventually he had gotten her to agree to meet them there and take care of Reese. He had first thought of driving them to a hospital but quickly discarded the idea as unsafe. Detective Carter wouldn't have been a problem but he couldn't say the same for the men who had shot Reese. They were still at large and likely still looking for them. Considering what had gone down, hospitals would be the first places they would look.
The country house seemed a safe enough place to go. No one (alive) besides his men knew he owned it. Finch had recovered there after his accident and he hoped Reese would be able to do the same.
Earlier that evening
“Don't you die.Don't you dare die.” Finch drove as fast as he safely could. The last thing he wanted was to get pulled over for speeding. Not now when every second counted. “Don't you die,” he repeated. Next to him, Reese was slumped over. His eyes were closed and his breathing was slightly labored. He also looked way too pale for Finch's liking.“Hang in there,” Finch murmured. His hands tightened unconsciously on the steering wheel. It was his fault this had happened. He should have monitored Carter more carefully and realized sooner she was being used. He had failed again. Just like he had failed Matt Duggan. Hopefully this failure wouldn't lead to another death on his hands and conscience.
“If you die I'll have to find someone else to help continue our work,” Finch said.“That would be very inconvenient. You wouldn't put me through that,would you?” Finch knew his words may sound rather cold but at this point it was either be calculating or be hysterical and he preferred the former.
Reese groaned softly. “Don't try to talk,” Finch said. “Just relax. We're almost there.” He turned the car off the expressway. “I called Dr. Tillman,” he continued. “She agreed to take care of you.You're going to be just fine.” Finch wished he totally believed that.
A few minutes later they pulled into the driveway of a large, two storey house. It was brick with freshly painted white trim. The yard was neatly manicured and there were flowers in the flower boxes. Finch hadn't been there in over a year but he still made sure the property was cared for and ready to be reoccupied if necessary. A black car sat in the driveway. Finch parked behind it. He had called his bodyguards/assistants Jim and Peter after finishing with Dr. Tillman and it was they who got out of the first car and came to carry Reese into the house. “Take him into the second bedroom,” Finch directed.
Once Reese was settled on the bed he told Jim to stand guard at the front of thehouse and watch for Dr. Tillman. He dispatched Peter to get the first aid supplies from the storage closet and set to the task of removing Reese's bloody shirt. “Don't you die on me,” Finch repeated as he slowly undid the buttons. “Don't you die on me, you hear me?”Reese moaned softly when Finch gently pulled the shirt from his waistband but otherwise gave no sign of hearing him.
“I wasn't sure what you needed so I brought everything.” Finch turned as Peter entered the room carrying a large box. “Thank you.” Peter set the box on a table near the bed and Finch went over to it. He had recovered from his injuries in this house once he was strong enough to leave the hospital. His private nurses had needed a variety of medical supplies and the box contained the ones that hadn't been used. Finch put on a pair of rubber gloves and took out some large gauze pads. “We need to see if we can stop the bleeding,” he said. He pressed the pads to Reese's wounds, frowning at how fast they became soaked with blood. This was not good. It was not good at all. Just then Jim entered the room followed by Dr. Tillman. Finch's relief was palpable. “Thank goodness you're here,” he said.
“Do I really want to know what happened to him?,” Tillman asked.
“Probably not,”Finch replied. He waited in the hallway while Tillman removed the bullets and bandaged Reese's wounds. “How is he?,” he asked when she finally came out. “Lucky,” Tillman replied. “The bullets didn't hit any major organs and I was able to get both of them out.”
“Thank God,”Finch replied, gratefully. “He has lost a lot of blood though,”Tillman said. “If he was at a hospital I would order a transfusion for him.” Finch thought for a moment. “That might not be out of the question.” Tillman looked at him, not quite understanding. “How can he have a transfusion here? You don't have the equipment, not to mention a supply of blood.”
Finch led Tillman back into the bedroom. “I recuperated in this house after my..accident. I should still have everything you need here.” He unbuttoned his cuff and began to roll up his sleeve. “As for the blood, Mr. Reese is B+. Coincidentally, so am I.” Tillman looked at Finch. “You know his blood type?” Finch nodded. “I make it a point to know everything about my employees, Dr. Tillman.”
Tillman went over to the box and found the tubing and needles she needed, all still in sealed packages. Finch sat in a chair by the bed and watched as the blood flowed from him into Reese. He had no hesitation about giving him this gift. He just hoped it would be enough.
Some time later Tillman came back in the room and removed the needle from his arm.She placed a bandage over the puncture mark on his arm and then went and did the same for Reese. She told Finch he should take it easy for a while and have something to eat to get his strength back. “Is he going to be okay?,” Finch asked. “He's not out of the woods yet but I believe he will be,” Tillman replied. That was some comfort to Finch but it didn't put his mind totally at ease.
"Thank you for everything you've done," Finch said. "Of course," Tillman replied. She still looked like she was wondering what she had gotten herself into. Finch was just glad she had been willing to come out there.
Once Tillman had left, Finch reached out and took Reese's hand. “You're going to be alright,” he murmured. Reese had been given a sedative and pain medication and was completely unresponsive.
In the den, Finch shifted painfully in his chair. He had sat with Reese for several hours and then finally gone and gotten into his pajamas. Then he had come in here. He set his glass on the table next to him and stood with a groan. The events of the evening and the day before were really catching up with him. He also felt a bit weak from giving blood to Reese.
Finch moved over near the desk and then leaned on it for support when the room wavered in front of his eyes. He probably shouldn't have had that drink (and he knew Tillman would chide him for it if she knew about it), but he had felt that he needed it. The dizziness passed several minutes later and Finch slowly made his way back to Reese's room.
The ex-CIA agent was still out cold. His face was pale but now there was a hint of color returning to his cheeks. Finch went over to the bed and sank down heavily in the chair next to it. He adjusted the tie on his robe and then reached for Reese's hand. He squeezed it gently and then sat back to continue his quiet vigil.