Reincarnation Part Three
Reese--Misunderstandings
John Reese alternately toed off each foot of his well-worn Dingo boots and stripped the foot of its sock while leaning against the door jam. Accomplishing that without falling flat on his face, Reese padded barefoot towards the shower. Moving across the room John peeled off his muddied, rain-soaked clothing, tossing them all on the threadbare carpet of the cheap roadside motel he’d been staying in the past week.
While waiting the five minutes it always seemed to take for the water to get hot, John checked himself out in the mirror above the sink. There was a bruise on the left side of his chin starting to turn a dark bluish-green but that seemed to be the only mark Fusco had left on him from their scuffle in the parking lot.
Reese looked downward on his reflection at the still angry-red scar his hand’s length below the right collar-bone and rotated his shoulder slowly. He still felt discomfort with the movement but it hadn’t been worsened by the altercation. John really hadn’t thrown any punches of his own, only having raised his arms to deflect Lionel’s. Still one of those deflected blows had caught him in the shoulder.
John grabbed the edge of the sink with his hands and lowered his head lightly shaking it negatively. John understood Fusco’s anger with him and quite frankly if the roles had been reversed he would have done same thing. Reese just didn’t know why he kept saying things he knew he didn’t mean.
John had left New York, not sure if he would ever return, but that was because of the complete mess he’d made of everything, not disillusionment with Finch and their mission. Never had Reese regretted taking the job Harold had offered, saving lives had been important, not pointless. Why he’d said that to the detective Reese couldn’t justify. John just shook his head again with confusion, ‘what the hell is wrong with me?’ he questioned himself for the millionth time. John was trembling slightly now, his body chilled from the cold rain, his soul cold from despair.
Finally the ancient plumbing was letting hot water spray out the shower head. John stepped inside, closing his eyes, willing the heated water to warm his chilled body and spirit. A single tear rolled down his face soon mixing with the shower’s spray, “Harold…”.
Finch had texted Reese to come by the safe-house after John saw their latest number off aboard flight to Los Angeles, he had matters to discuss. Reese had smiled like a fool the whole drive back from JFK knowing when Harold wanted to meet up at the apartment instead of The Library talking about a case wasn’t the only thing his partner had planned.
Reese wasn’t surprised to find a catered dinner complete with flowers and lighted candles set up at the long table. Harold was out of his normal three-piece suit, opting to wear a midnight blue vest, matching tie stippled with silver diamonds, and blue pinstriped shirt.
They were John’s favorites, of course.
And as always, while they ate the excellent meal, John eventually steered the conversation away from case related subjects. If Reese were to question Harold on anything of a personal nature, he would tell John everything and nothing about himself. John didn’t mind the subterfuge, he knew enough about his partner.
When the meal was over and cleared away, John feigned leaving for the night. Harold had softly asked him to stay, taking John’s hand in his. With his free hand, Harold had pulled John down for a kiss. One kiss would end, they’d pull apart long enough to catch a small breath and kiss again, each one longer and more open mouthed.
Harold dropped the hand he had held and was running his now free hand up and down John’s back. They’d moved slowly, kiss after kiss, hands reverently caressing while undressing the other, until they reached their destination, Harold’s room and its antique four poster bed. John tried to ease their fall to the mattress, still Harold had moaned briefly in pain, John’s weight upon him. He tried to slide off Harold’s body to keep from hurting him more but Harold just wrapped one arm firmly across John’s back a hand splayed over his shoulder while Harold used his other hand to pull John’s head down for another kiss. John’s concern was fleeting as Harold’s whimpering between the now frenzied kisses was caused by pleasure not discomfort.
And kiss after kiss their passion grew, each man growing painfully erect. John wanted to sink himself on Harold’s hardness pressing into his stomach, only now they both were so desperate for climax that John just reached between them, wrapped his hand around them both, and slicked by leaking fluids, he’d stroked them both off.
When the high of sexual release had faded away both men had just drifted off to sleep, too content lying in the other’s arms to leave the bed.
The rapidly cooling spray of the shower snapped John out of his reverie. He turned the faucets off and grabbed a towel to quickly dry himself before his skin chilled again. He grabbed the remaining towel, wrapping it around his waist and stepped out of the shower.
Flopping on the bed in the main room, John didn’t even think to get redressed, the room felt warm enough that he didn’t need to. Reese just wished to fall asleep and escape his thoughts for a little while.
Reese brought his arm over his eyes and closed them; however, sleep didn’t come to him. Thoughts of his and Finch’s last time together would not be quiet. Harold was already up, showered, dressed and back to business as usual when John opened his eyes to pale morning light. With the day’s beginning it was as if there was nothing between them except the working relationship as partners not one as lovers.
John loved the all special things Harold did for him and his hands on John intimately... but again he felt what they had was just physical and nothing more. John only wanted Harold to tell him in words just once that he loved him. But he never did and Harold told John once he would never lie to him. Harold had never said, ‘I love you’, because he didn’t. But John had been so wrong in believing that, he’d found out too late.
Later that day they had found out Carter had escalated her plan to bring down HR. Finch had him go one more time to offer their help, which she’d promptly turned down. Only later when thing’s had reached a critical point, Carter had called Harold needing help. Finch had assisted Carter setting the trap.
Reese, Finch and Shaw had been in the Library making their final preparations. Shaw had volunteered to be the one going in when Finch gave the “Go” getting Carter away from Simmons and Quinn. But Reese had vetoed that, telling them both it was not that he was better qualified but he had a score to settle with Simmons and Carter trusted John more. Shaw would be on call in case something went wrong. She had argued vehemently against John but Finch had the last say and she had huffed out of the Library.
John had made his preparations to leave to wait outside the judge’s house. He didn’t know why he expected more than the “Be careful, Mr. Reese.” Finch had cautioned him with. Harold barely looked away from his monitors when he’d said it. It had hurt somehow that Harold hadn’t shown more concern.
Reese sat up and launched a pillow across the room. John had everything he wanted with Harold, why did he need vocal affirmation from the man to realize that?
John had stormed into the judge’s house, extricating Carter from Simmons, away his men and then both of them had fled, Quinn in tow. They’d had to evade crooked cops and the dregs of New York City out to kill him trying to take their captive to the FBI and ended up hiding temporarily in the city morgue.
Reese knew it wouldn’t be long before someone would get to them; either crooked cops or criminals, so he’d made the decision to lead the scum away as a diversion making a sacrifice of own life. Harold would come through, get Carter to safety and Quinn to the FBI.
John swore under his breath. He’d only told Carter the things he did hoping that she wouldn’t feel too much guilt over his death while helping her. And Reese never should have mistaken the emotions he and Carter had felt at that moment for anything other than those of the true friends they had become, but he had.
Finch had come through for both of them, helping Carter get Quinn to FBI headquarters and finding good cops to arrest John and lock him safely behind bars until the dust settled.
Maybe if he had had a chance to figure out what he felt for Carter was only deep love for a friend...but Simmons had shot him and killed Carter. She had died in his arms, before he’d passed out. Coming too alone in that hospital bed, John was so overcome by grief and anger, he’d become a killing machine once again.
He had mercilessly tracked down Quinn when finding Simmons had been impossible. For all of Quinn’s posturing about loyalty he’d given up Simmons all too quickly. All Reese had to do was walk away, only the killer inside him had meant what he said and John turned ready to fire.
“Mr. Reese.”
John choked up as he remembered Harold’s sweet caring voice, trying to tell him he wasn’t a killer anymore. John knew his life was ebbing away and all he wanted was for Harold to save him once again. But the killer inside was still strong in John and he’d pulled the trigger anyway.
~*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue