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awesometheydontknowiamhere · 4 years

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Back Alley Back-Up

John Reese X Reader

Requested: Yeah, the voices in my head wanted me to write this.

Summary: Reader works at a diner and just around closing time a handsome, injured, mysterious stranger lands at her feet. This fic follows them through the night as she tends to his wounds. But will a man who resides in the shadow of anonymity stick around in the real world?

Warning: A bit of gunfight, some first-aid stuff. Mostly fluff, tried to make it cute.They don’t even kiss in this.

A/N: I was so pissed while writing this, which is why this turned out to be the LONGEST ONE-SHOT I’VE EVER WRITTEN.

Words: 2101

It had been the usual, tedious day for you at the diner. The boring monotony of endless transient customers and just enough regulars to keep it interesting, you had a love-hate relationship with your job. You were just about ready to get off your feet and go home. All you had to do was take out the trash through the backdoor.

You hummed a tune to yourself and pushed open the door with your hip, each hand holding a garbage bag. The night sky boasted of a full moon, but the competing neon lights dulled its effect.

You hauled the bags one by one into the dumpster. At the end of the alley, you could hear commotion. It was probably drunk idiots causing mayhem.

You thought about venturing forth to see what the commotion was about, but knowing these streets, it was better to return to the safety of the diner.

A rapid, incessant noise filled the air and its growing volume took you by surprise. You froze in place, half covered by the dumpster but still visible to anyone who entered the alley.

Two men tumbled over the wall, landing a few feet from you. That brought you back and you ducked behind the dumpster, unable to reach the diner without drawing attention to yourself. You pressed your palms against your ears, trying to drown out the sounds of what seemed like machine guns. You wanted to close your eyes and escape this completely, but you had to keep your wits around, lest they spotted you.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute and it was hard to concentrate on anything with it drumming in your chest.

An eternity passed.

You realized everything had been silent for quite some time.

You crawled on your knees and peeked out, shocked to see one of the men lying on the street. You looked around, making sure that he was alone and approached him.

“Sir, can you hear me? Are you injured?”

He was moving and he opened his eyes, striking and expressive, looking straight into yours.

“You need to get out of here. They might be back with more people. Go. Run.”

You were taken aback. Here you had an injured man in the back alley of a diner and he was asking you to run.

“No way, you are coming in with me.”

You bent down and helped him up. He could walk, but you made sure that you could use you for support.

“I work in this diner right here, it is empty for the night and I am in charge of locking up.”

You instantly regretted blabbering. You had given a total stranger detail about your schedule, and more importantly, told him you were all alone.

What if he was the bad guy?

The time for questions would come later, it was important to patch up this handsome stranger before anything else.

You helped him into one of the chairs and went to retrieve the first-aid kit and a bottle of scotch.

“Don’t worry, I used to volunteer as a nurse, I can more than patch you up,” you said with a smile.

“My name is Y/N and yours?”

“I am John,” he offered.

“Well, John, not to be too forward and considering that this is the first time we’ve met, I am going to ask you to take off your jacket and your shirt.”

You felt your cheeks warming up and you looked away.

“Yes, ma’am.”

John smiled at you and tried slipping off his jacket, but failed as he winced in pain.

“Oh my God, exactly how badly are you hurt? Why don’t you relax and let me take care of this?”

You walked over to him and removed his jacket with practiced ease, mumbling words of comfort every time you heard a sharp intake of breath.

You then moved in front of him, holding his hand you inspected him. His white shirt was blotted with blood, especially at the left shoulder.

“John, you are bleeding from you shoulder. I am going to have to remove your shirt too, okay?”

A world of effort prevented your hands from trembling while they went up to the buttons on his shirt. The situation had you pumped with excitement, the consequences be damned. A tall, striking man, with an air of calm and mystery, lands wounded right at your feet and here were undressing him, right in the middle of your diner.

Your hands were under control and you mentally willed your heart to beat moderately, and not motor on erratically.

You decided to look at your hands as you moved on to the next button, you hadn’t realized how slow you were going.

“No, I am fine. I am not injured. Yeah, he got away-“

You jumped back and he instinctively wrapped his fingers around your wrist, gentle enough but they clearly didn’t want you move from the spot.

“Who are you talking to, John?”

He looked at you for a pregnant minute. You could almost see the lie forming in his head.

You hated liars.

“You know what? I don’t care. Your name probably isn’t even John and I am not here to get to know you better or whatever. I am just going to patch you up and toss you out and you can go ahead and shoot whoever you want.”

His finger flicked his ear and you looked at him in confusion.

“Y/n, I am wearing an ear piece, I am talking to a friend. And my name truly is John,” he said. He wasn’t even sure why he was giving you an explanation. To be completely honest, he had suffered worse injuries and walked away, but something about you had him hooked the moment he looked into your eyes. He made a split decision to follow you into the diner, to spend a few more minutes with you before he disappeared.

“So you are fed or a vigilante or something?”

“Something,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

“Okay Mr. John Something, I still need to look at your body. I meant wounds,” you fumbled over your words, mentally kicking yourself for making that mistake.

John looked like he was suppressing a smile and a warm feeling spread in your chest.

He let go of your wrists and you went back to unbuttoning his shirt, this time, not lingering on each one. You peeled it away from his chest, only to reveal a white undershirt with a bullet proof vest over it.

“Aha! At least you were wearing a vest. You have rotten luck buddy, the bullet skimmed past your skin exactly wear the vest ends.”

“I met you, how rotten could my luck really be?”

You lightly smacked his chest and laughed.

“Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere with me, John but right now you need to tell me how I can get you out of this,” you said.

He gave clear instructions and you helped him out of it, glad that this time he didn’t seem to be in pain.

“The final layer, so we can go about it in two ways. Either you let me take it off you, which might hurt like a bitch or you let me cut it off with scissors, that way you won’t have to lift your arms.”

“And which one do you prefer, y/n?”

“I actually prefer both, because then I can finally see what exactly the bullet proof vest was protecting.”

“You just had to ask, dear” John said and whipped off his undershirt.

You were gob smacked for a hot second; the expanse of skin had you rooted in your spot. You let your eyes roam freely, and when they finally landed back on his face, you were hit with guilt. His chest was bruised in two or three places but those were nothing compared to the site of blood slowly dribbling over his chest.

“God, I am such an idiot. Sorry, John. I was busy checking you out like a total perv,” you said, unfazed by your own choice of words.

You stepped closer to him, entering the V he had vacated for you between his legs. His thigh pressed lightly on both sides of you and you suppressed the shiver that touch spent up your spine.

You cleaned up his wound and patched gauze on it and informed him that it was just a surface wound. His gaze settled on your face and you basked in his attention for a minute before stepping out of his personal space.

You placed a hand on his cheek and excused yourself.

While you were rumbling through the pantry, John called his friend and partner, Harold.

“Where on Earth are you John? Your location places you at a diner near the target’s house,” Harold immediately launched into a series of questions.

“I will tell you everything later. Let’s just say I found a very caring lady who is helping me with my wounds. I called to tell you so that you wouldn’t worry,”

With that he hung up and you showed up with bags of frozen peas a couple of minutes later.

“Sorry, it took so long. I was looking for these. Now I don’t think you have any broken bones so I am hoping a cold compress and a Tylenol will do.”

You kneeled on the floor to be face to face with his torso and you missed the look of absolute fascination on his face.

You looked up at him and realized your position. You banished those dirty thoughts from your mind and willfully ignored his tall, lean, muscular form in front of you and how strong and solid his thighs felt under your palms.

You cleared your throat.

“So I am just going to feel around and see if anything is broken. I don’t know why I am telling you all this? You probably have had dozens of doctors go over you, considering the amount of injuries you have. I am just going to shut up.”

“No, y/n, please keep talking. It keeps my mind off the pain,” he said, the smile on your face not going unnoticed.

You placed on hand on his shoulder and the other over his last few ribs, directly over the developing bruise. He jerked back and you instantly apologized.

“Y/n, relax. Cold hands, that’s all,” John said and laughed.

“You scared me, I thought I hurt you. Do that again and I am going to throw a bag of peas at your head,” you said, shaking your head.

You ran your skilled fingers over his ribs, prodding and poking to find any breaks in the bone. You realized you had an ideal hand on his chest, and you were glad to feel his strumming heart under your palm.

“You’re fine. Here, hold this packet of peas over your ribs,” you handed it to him and rose up on your feet.

“I hope you like scotch,” you said as you poured him a glass, “it’s going to help with the pain.”

“Here’s to finding you when I needed you,” John said, his eyes crinkling with his smile.

He held your hand as he sipped the amber fluid, his thumbs rubbing the back of your palm. You didn’t want to ruin the moment with words. You just took it in, the dimly lit diner, the occasional beads of sweat glistening on John’s body, and his gaze consuming you.

Your phone trilled loudly, smashing the moment into shards. You walked over to your bag and answered your cell.

“Yes, Jules. I won’t forget, promise.”

Your roommate had a bad habit of guilt-tripping you into picking up groceries and running errands. You stayed on the call for a few more minutes, reassuring her every few minutes. She finally hung up and you sighed in relief, glad to finally go back to John. The whole time you were getting restless, it felt as if the time you had with him was limited and you didn’t want this to be the last time you saw him.

You walked back into the dining area, still and empty. Everything, from the piece of tape you had ripped with your teeth while fixing him up to the pack of frozen peas, it was all gone.

Of course, he would leave and remove all traces of him. So much for leaving behind a memory.

You gave the room one last glance before locking up, realizing something else was missing too.

You laughed out loud.

The bastard had even taken the bottle of scotch with him.

#john reese #john reese x reader #person of interest #person of interest fandom #person of interest fanfiction #jim caviezel #harold finch #sameen shaw #john reese x sameen shaw

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jaksfanficsaver · 5 years

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Just Another Number?

It was another average day, Y/N followed her usual routine and trudged in her rut. First the library, then the coffee shop, maybe after she'd change it up and go draw in the park for a while.

"Hey Laverne," Y/N murmured walking into the library, the scent of old pages and worn leather hitting her as she took a deep content breath.

"Y/n! What's the pick of the week now?" A stout woman inquired from behind her desk. Y/N chuckled and shook her head with a roll of her eyes.

"You're going to laugh," She teased as she wondered down an aisle.

"Try me."

"It's the Bazaar of Bad Dreams... Again." she added the last bit a tad sheepishly

"With all that King you read it's hard to believe that you don't constantly have nightmares." the short woman laughed and rolled her eyes before going back to her filing.

"What, this one is my favorite of his!" she stuck her tongue out in a childish manor as she went about filling out the card, which most spaces on consisted of her name.

"Mhmm, sure." she clacked away at her keyboard "Go flirt with that barista now."

"Oh please." her nose crinkled at the idea "Anthony is definitely not my type, you know that."

"I forgot, you like older mysterious men, Don't you?"

"Laverne!" Her cheeks flared a bright crimson "I'm leaving now, I can't believe you," Y/N laughed as she walked towards the door.

-------

John wondered the library, just close enough to keep an eye on you but not enough to draw attention. His fingers drew across the canvas spines of old books as he listened to the conversation.

"Stephen King, seems like she's a horror fan," Harold's voice came through the ear wick "Bazaar of Bad Dreams, one of his most recent compilation books, it's a nice collection of short stories... Seems like she prefers them to novels, other books she checks out religiously are the Grimm Brother's Collection and a complete collection of Edgar Allen Poe."

"have we got anything else on her?"

"She likes sushi, she's an Art Major a semester away from graduating, she's had maybe three boyfriends in her life and she volunteers at an animal shelter in her free time." the bespectacled man sat back for a moment. "Who on Earth would want to hurt her?"

"That's what I'm going to find out, Finch." John's eyes trained on the woman through the bookshelves.

"Mhmm, sure." she clacked away at her keyboard "Go flirt with that barista now."

"Oh please." her nose crinkled at the idea "Anthony is definitely not my type, you know that."

"I forgot, you like older mysterious men, Don't you?"

"Laverne!"

A small smirk quirked at the edge of John's lips at the exchange and how the older woman poked fun at Y/N.

"Hear that, Mr. Reese?" there was a smile in Harold's voice "You could use that to get close to her, if you befriend her it could make our job exponentially less difficult." the pepper-haired man let out a soft laugh at the suggestion and shook his head. "She goes to a little coffee shop called 'The Hideaway'. Make sure you don't lose her." John nodded and hung up, deciding to snatch up the leather bound Grimm book just in case.

---

"Um, a medium Irish Creme and a blueberry muffin please?" She ordered politely at the counter, offering a small smile when the man bearing the name tag reading 'Tony' beamed at her.

"Anything else? maybe my phone number? a date?"

She laughed a little nervously and glanced around, catching the tall man who had just walked in she let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"No thanks, Anthony, just the coffee and snack." The light lilt that was usually in her voice had fallen out into a more flat tone at his insistence.

"Oh come one, one of these days you'll say yes like the smart girl you are."

Y/N shivered and couldn't hide the crinkle of her nose at the suggestion

"Just let me pay, please."

"I got it for you, Muffin," He grinned as if proud of himself.

"I'd really prefer if you didn't." She sighed, she was used to his crap, some days he tried harder than others, and honestly it was the stink of desperation that really made her not want to spend outside time with him. The Hideaway was her favorite coffee shop and she wouldn't let a new, somewhat creepy, barista ruin it.

"It'll be like a first date, c'mon, no harm." The blond man insisted all while she shook her head.

"Anthony-"

"Tony. The only person who calls me Anthony is my mother when I'm in trouble." He laughed, his brown eyes still stuck to her face. By this point John had taken up the spot behind her in line to keep an eye on the situation.

"Anthony, I don't want you to pay for me, and I don't want a date with you, please." Y/N's nostrils flared at the young man.

"But-"

"Well maybe I can buy your coffee for you?" John cut in having had seen enough of the man's failing attempts at convincing her to let him get her items. She jumped startled by his sudden appearance and he offered an apologetic (and charming) smile (that also caught her off guard) causing her to flush brightly. Tony openly glared at the older man that seemed to catch her attention.

"Oh, uh, sure, Thank you... "

"John."

"Well then, thank you, John I'd like that." The h/c girl smiled softly up at him to which he nodded and ordered his own before paying, it was then she noticed the book he had tucked under his arm "Is that the Grimm collection?" she inquired with a smile.

"Ah, yes actually it is," he admitted with what was perceived as a sheepish smile as he lifted the object. "I used to read them as a child, I thought I'd check it out once more." He responded with a light shrug.

"Um, would you like to sit with me?" She offered a little awkwardly while she gestured to a booth he assumed was her usual spot.

"Oh, you don-"

"I insist, really." She smiled more confidently this time

"Well, if you're sure."

"Well done, John." Finch spoke in his ear "Stay with her, I think I can get into the laptop in her bag."

"So, is that a common occurrence?" the ex-operative questioned gently as he sat across from her. Y/N was very aware of the set of brown eyes on the two of them as she cut her muffin in half and offered part to her 'savior'.

"Yeah, that's Anthony," Y/N began with a sigh "He started working here a few months ago and has this thing with me.

"I see why, you're a beautiful young girl," he charmed, not that it wasn't what he actually thought "Are you okay though?"

"I-" she puffed her cheeks out as she registered what he said and she once again rivaled a tomato "... Thank you." Y/N mumbled softly before taking a sip of her coffee. "Tony is harmless, just persistent," she deflated a bit "My biggest problem with him, aside from not knowing the word 'no', is that I can't quite pin down why I don't trust him." John cocked a brow at this. "I know it sounds crazy, but I pride myself on my initial instincts on people, but I can usually tell why I don't like someone." she shook her head "something is off with him and I'm not sure what."

"I think I might know," Harold began "Anthony has a history of being... overbearing.. with women he likes. He's not violent, but his type is definitely the kind that might set off some flags. I don't think he is the one we need to watch out for."

"So you have good judge of character," he nodded "I'd like to think I do as well." he paused "What made you trust me then?" John was genuinely curious with this one, not just trying to buy time for Harold.

"You have honest eyes." She didn't miss a beat "What I mean to say is that I truly believe you wanted to help me out of that awkward situation." she let out a small laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down into her cup. "So, um, is it everything you remembered?" she abruptly asked, pointing to the red leather that sat beside her new companion.

"Oh, yes," he chuckled softly

"Nice save." commented the voice in his ear.

"Tales that don't just end happily, but have a lesson were always a preference of mine," he explained "While the Grimm's didn't write happy stories they wrote ones I believe need to exist."

"Yes!" her eyes sparkled as she listened to his opinion "I always loved Grimm Tales and Aesop's Fables" Her smile was nearly ear to ear "I had a language class where we had to pick a children's book to translate, I was the only one who picked a fable."

"Almost in, she has a pin protected system... good girl." Harold murmured.

"You speak another language?" John inquired with a small tilt of his head as he sipped on his coffee. She beamed and started gesturing around with her hands proudly. It took John a moment but he recognized it as American Sign Language. He took a moment to think about what he was doing before carefully attempting to sign something back

'H-I M-Y N-A-M-E I-S J-O-H-N'

Y/N giggled softly and nodded.

"Close, some of your letters are a little off- may I?" she gently reached for his hands, smiling more when he placed his own in hers "Okay, so you want to make sure you're really clear on your letters if you're going to finger spell," she had such a light touch as she guided his fingers through the motions "And then there's shortcut signs for 'Name' and 'hello', and there are no little connectors" he watched her as she focused on sharing her knowledge "Aaannnd there you go!" she grinned, satisfied that she taught him a good introductory sentence. She pulled back a little too quickly when she had realized she had still been holding John's hands causing the man to chuckle genuinely.

"Oh, he can laugh?" Harold couldn't resist teasing his good friend "I think you two might be flirting, Reese you dog." If the taller man could roll his eyes he would.

"What do I owe you for the lesson then miss.." John tilted his head, pretending that he didn't know her name.

"Oh my god, I never introduced myself, I'm sorry! It's Y/N." an embarrassed flush coated her cheeks "I'd say saving me from my admirer would be payment enough, but I wouldn't argue if you wanted to do it again tomorrow, same time?"

"Then I'll meet you here, Y/N."

------

John kept Y/n in his sights, snapping a few pictures after the two of you left the coffee shop.

"So you have a date tomorrow morning then."This time John did roll his eyes.

"It's not a date, Finch." he grumbled

"You sound a tad disappointed, Mr. Reese." John glared directly into the traffic cam he knew could see him.

"I'm old enough I could be her father."

"Not quite actually, but that's not the point." John could hear Finch typing "So i was able to find that she's part of some conspiracy forums, that and that she covers her webcams when not in use. Our girl may be a bit on the paranoid side."

"The paranoid survive."

"That's true, but i suspect one of her government conspiracies hits too close to home if any of the trojans I found mean anything."

"If shes paranoid I doubt she'd just download things that could infect her system like that."

"Precisely Mr. Reese... She's got a couple of threads on surveillance, they might be scared she'll find the machine, and if that's true we can't leave her alone for a second."

"Harold, I lost her."

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 6 years

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Potential (Finch X Reader) *PLATONIC

Characters: Harold Finch X Reader

Universe: Person of Interest

Warning: Near hit and run, near death

Request: Do you also write for Person of Interest? The reader being a guitar playing street musician and saving Finch. He and Root see lots of potential in the reader and bond with them. So they become part of the team?

Music was a passion you always had, and no matter what anyone said, you were determined to go in that direction. That meant working your way up from the bottom, and the bottom was being a street performer.

There was a lot of times where you wanted to just give up and go work in an office. Sometimes he was because no one would tip you, someone would call the cops and claim you were being a nuisance, some assholes stealing the money given to you, or some drunk folk requesting you sing a song on repeat, and when you didn’t, get pissed with you. But then there was the good times. When a crowd formed, and they sang along, or when a child asked you politely to sing a song, and left a tip. Furthermore, the shop owners near where you liked to play had started coming out to defend you when the cops rocked up, and after the umpteenth time of being arrested, the police stopped putting you in cuffs and instead had a casual talk to you before leaving you to it. You weren’t doing anything wrong- if anything, you were making the place more lively, and when there was a shoplifting accident, you could help identify the person, and you had also been known to chase after the person and if possible, tackle and subdue them.

It was supposed to be a normal day for you. You played your guitar, doing some simple, well known tunes to warm up. You saw the shop owners listening to you as they set up that morning, some whistling or humming along. A few of the regulars who passed you to go to work came by, some stopping to give you a tip before moving along. There was also the parents taking their children to school, who had set off a little earlier than most parents just so then their children could listen to you play for a while. That had to be your favourite part of the day.

As the day progressed and people shopped and walked past you, you continue to play songs that were requested, as well as any song that came to mind, as well as a few originals. People stopped, watched and listened, before moving on with more of a spring in their step which always made you feel accomplished. As you did so, you swayed back and forth, your eyes bouncing around the streets and the road opposite the wall you played on. It was during your time at looking at the road, that you saw a new face.

A man, a few years older than yourself with glasses, on the phone with that seemed an important call, and he also seemed to be rushing. An automatic sense of worry overcame you. The road was infamous to you and those who loved around. It was on a corner where cars couldn’t see what was around until they turned, and people tended to be going past the speed limit due to a hill only meters before. The amount of times you’ve seen careless children and adults like nearly get hit had caused you natural anxiety. You watched him closely as he stepped out, only starting to look one way, as a speeding car blasting music appeared from the hill. You seemed to let your first instinct kick in, as you dropped your guitar, and took off sprinting onto the road, heading right for the man. He only saw you for a split second before you shoved him back onto the pavement, taking yourself with him.

“What the hell!?” He snapped after getting his breath back from the impact of hitting the pavement. You rolled onto your back, also getting your breath back. The man heard the tires screech, and as he looked over, saw the car taking off up the road. He looked back over at you as you started to help yourself up.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you offered your hand, resting the other on your upper thigh. By this point he had figured out what had happened, and accepted your hand, allowing you to help him up off the floor. He brushed himself off as you reached down, grabbing his phone for him, and offering it to him before the witnesses came rushing over to fuss you both.

“Are you two alright?” The older man who ran the bakery asked you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine Charlie. Did anyone catch the licence plate? Betty, can we see your CCTV?” You asked a shop owner while another called the police. You turned to the man, who had just fixed his glasses. “Hey, sorry about shoving you, but I saw the car coming quick and I just acted.” You explained to him.

“It’s fine, thanks by the way… what’s your name?” He asked, while examining you. Your casual attire which also gave warmth showed him you weren’t someone with an office job, and definitely not run of the mill. He got an odd feeling about you, but it was a good feeling. You sent him a kind smile.

“Y/N L/N, you?” You asked, offering your hand, which he took a shook.

“Finch. Harold Finch.” He told you. “Is running into traffic to save stranger regular for you?” He joked lightly. You smiled cheekily, while shrugging.

“I have a tendency to chase after people I catch stealing, and I’ve done that before with some kids.” You explained. “I’m a street performer by day, and vigilante by night.” You joked back at him.

The police stopped by, found what they could, and called it a day. Finch watched the cops go, and when he turned to see you, he saw you back on the other side of the street, picking up your guitar, checking the back, seeing some damage on it. He saw you deflate, before packing up and starting to walk home.

Your next day started normal. Your guitar, though damaged, was still able to play, and you needed the money, so out you went. As you set up your guitar case and stool, you could hear someone calling you. Turning, you saw one of the store owners jogging over, a brand new, expensive guitar in hand, and as she got to you, she offered it to you. “That nice man who you saved yesterday dropped this off for you. He also said he might drop by to listen.” She informed you, before dashing off to run her store. You examined the guitar in all it’s glory; the smooth edges, it’s perfect state. Guitars weren’t cheap, and you knew a good one when you saw it. You placed yourself on your worn stool, and strummed it, starting to tighten the strings till it sounded how you wanted it to, and started to play, getting used to it.

The day was going well, getting compliments on your new guitar from the regulars. You finished a song, and the crowd started to disperse as you prepared for another song. As you did so, you noticed coming up, and you looked up to see Finch put in what looked like five $100 bills. “Hey.” You greeted. “Do you usually blow that much on someone you don’t know?” You teased, and he chuckled with a smug smile.

“No, but you deserve it. There’s not that many people out there who are selfless, and it’s something I deeply admire… Is this your only way of income?” He questioned, and you nodded, putting your guitar down to talk to him better.

“Yeah… thanks for the new guitar by the way, it’s really appreciated.” You thanked, and he shrugged it off. “How can you just afford something like that?” You asked him.

“I’m kind of a billionaire, so it’s not too big a deal for me. I’m also working on a major project to do with crime, and catching criminals.” He explained to you. You eyed him suspisiously.

“Okay… why are you telling me this?” You asked, tilting your head as your squinted at him, looking for an answer. Finch simply kept his hands in his pockets, taking a step forward and leaning down to your height as you remained sat on the stool.

“Want a side job with me? It’ll pay well, and all it will mean is that you’re a look out. I’ll call you every so often to maybe move to a different spot, and keep an eye out for anything suspicious. If you see anything, you call in, and I sent one of my guys to deal with it and resolve the situation.” He asked. “Also, I might need you to do it an some events, and it’ll get you noticed by people up the ranks.” He offered.

“So I just sit there, play music and look around for trouble, and I get paid an actually decent salary?” You asked, and he nodded. “Where do I sign?” You asked. He seemed pleased with your response, and stood straight.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, and I’ll take you to meet the rest of the team, and properly explain what the job is, alright?” He asked, and you nodded. “See you tomorrow then Y/N.” He bowed his head and started to walk off.

“See ya boss.”

Hope you like it! Sorry if the character’s off, I’ve never seen PoI, so I don’t know how he acts. If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @ariennisimpressed @captain-peanut-at-your-service @sebstanchrisevanchickforever19

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fand0mfancies · 4 years

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Came across this on Tumblr a few days ago, it amused me for a couple of hours or more, filling it in, while watching QI.

Fandom Questions

1. What was the first fandom you got involved in?

Star Trek: Voyager, I suppose at least for reading. Started writing with Stargate SG-1.

2. What is your latest fandom?

I dip in and out of lots of fandoms on and off, the most recent ‘pick up’ is Ballam from Eastenders, I don’t watch soaps, but Robron and Ballam both appear a good bit on my tumblr, so I eventually gave in to checking them out via fic and youtube – thank god for youtube, lol! I still don’t watch soaps, but I watch those storylines!

3. What is the best fandom you’ve ever been involved in?

Gosh, that’s... actually no that’s really easy. Primeval. For anyone not familiar, it’s a ‘silly little dinosaur show’ produced in the UK. It had 4 short seasons, with a somewhat revolving main cast – although they managed to keep 3 of them through all 4 seasons – but the fandom was/is amazing. I made life long friends through the fandom and even though I don’t write much any more I still read some and still talk with those people.

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

I would say no. I can’t say every fandom has always been amazing – ship wars anyone! – but mostly fandom has been a very positive experience in my life.

5. Which fandoms have your written fanfiction for?

How long have you got... in genuinely no particular order (basically as they came to me) Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, Star Trek (TNG, DS9, Voy, Ent & Reboot Movies), Marvel, Kingsman, Person of Interest, Due South, Quantum Leap, Firefly, Buffy/Angel verse, Harry Potter, The Sentinel, Torchwood(/Doctor Who), Hawaii Five-0, Shadowhunters, Sherlock, Primeval, Emmerdale (Robron), NCIS, CSI (Vegas, NY & Miami), White Collar, Empire Records, Bull, Diagnosis Murder, MacGyver (the original), 1-800-Missing, CHAOS, Without a Trace, M*A*S*H, Charmed, Queer as Folk (US), Will & Grace, Bring it On, Nash Bridges, Magnificent 7 (TV series), House, Babylon 5 – I think I got them all... a few of those were one time only deals, but a lot of them have more (anywhere from 2-52 (or more still!) ranging from 100 word drabbles, to thousands of words – hey I’ve been writing fic for 21 years... you tend to amass a lot of fandoms...

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

Oh geez, here we go, lol! Okay...

Stargate SG-1: Jack O’Neill/Daniel Jackson

Stargate Atlantis: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard

Star Trek: Elim Garak/Julian Bashir, Chakotay/Tom Paris, Jonathan Archer/Malcolm Reed, James Kirk/Spock – I don’t particularly have an ‘otp’ in TNG, the couple I’ve written were Picard/Data, I’ve also dabbled reading Data/Gordi)

Marvel: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Kingsman: Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin

Person of Interest: Harold Finch/John Reese

Due South: Benton Fraser/Ray K

Quantum Leap: Sam/Al

Firefly: Malcolm Reynolds/Simon Tam

Buffy/Angel Verse: Buffy/Giles, Angel/Spike, Xander/Spike, Willow/Tara

Harry Potter: Harry/Draco, Harry/Hermione, Harry/Hermione/Draco

The Sentinel: Jim/Blair

Torchwood: Jack/Ianto

Hawaii Five-O: Steve/Danno

Shadowhunters: Magnus/Alec

Sherlock: Sherlock/John, Mycroft/Lestrade

Primeval: Nick Cutter/Stephen Hart, James Lester/Hilary Becker Emmerdale: Robert Sugden/Aaron Dingle

NCIS: Gibbs/DiNozzo CSI: Nick Stokes/David Hodges, Mac/Danny, Horatio/Speed White Collar: Neal/Peter/Elizabeth

Empire Records: Joe/Lucas

Bull: Benny/Jason

Diagnosis Murder: Steve/Jesse

I’ve left a few out where I don’t have particular OTPs

7. List your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Here we go again... lol!

Stargate SG-1: Jack/Sam, I just... no. I’ve read a few where it’s a background or secondary pairing, but it always makes me wince a bit. I’ve read a few with Sam/Daniel as a secondary pairing that didn’t make me react that way and I’ve read Sam with other characters, but Jack/Sam just is a nope for me.

Stargate Atlantis: McKay/Keller – no, just no. that was horrible. She treated him like... awfully, trying to change him to suit her, just... no.

Marvel: Contentious, but Tony/Pepper, also Peter Parker/Tony Stark. Maybe because I saw the movies before I ever looked at the comics, but meh.

Due South: Benton Fraser/Ray V – again, contentious, but honestly I think Ray V was kind of a shit friend to Fraser.

Firefly: Anything with Jayne. No really, I just can not stand the character. I spent most of the series wanting to punch him in the face and sometimes you get characters you love to hate, but I just hated him.

Buffy/Angel Verse: Buffy/Spike, Willow/Kennedy

Harry Potter: Ron/Hermione, Ron/Harry, Harry/Ginny... basically, Ron and Ginny should just be loveless hermits who live by themselves. Ok, no, that isn’t fair... but as much as Ron was Harry’s first friend, he was selfish and bitter and Ginny/Harry just... never sat right with me. Ron literally says she spent ‘all summer talking about’ Harry, when she’d met him for all of three seconds. She didn’t know him. It always felt like she fell more in love with the *idea* of Harry Potter, than Harry Potter himself.

Sherlock: Sherlock/Molly, he’d eat her for breakfast. Serious, she’d never survive him.

Primeval: Oliver Leek and anyway. Arg. Creepy little dude is creepy and evil.

NCIS: Ziva/DiNozzo – ugh, just no.

Again, I’ve left out ones where I don’t have particular NoTPs

8. How did you get involved in your latest fandom?

Tumblr, god damned bitches posting gifs of pretty boys falling in love, roped me in!

9. What are the best things about your current fandom?

I dabble in several fandoms at once... but if we go by ‘most recently picked up’ as ‘current’ we’re talking Ballum, which hey, it’s always fun to have an actual canon pairing be my OTP, that’s rare for me, lol.

10. Is there a fandom you read fic from but don’t write in?

Well (so far) I haven’t written any Ballum. (I say so far, because I’m a realist, lol). I rarely read in fandoms and not end up writing in them at some point. Although I have probably dabbled in a few I’ve not written for, but if I read it with any sort of consistency, I mostly end up writing it. I am weak!

Ship Questions for your Current Fandom

11. Who is your current OTP?

Okay, so that list above, just basically go with that. While I do drop in and hour of fandoms and some I certainly read in more than others, I do tend to go back to fandoms... If we were talking about what I’m mostly focused on writing atm... Steve/Tony, Mycroft/Lestrade, Harry/Draco and Robron are ones I’m currently working on most.

12. Who is your current OT3?

I’m not currently writing anything that’s OT3 with any real focus. I have a couple of Neal/Peter/Elizabeth WiPs that I will at some point finish, but they aren’t a big focus just now. I did recently read a fabulous Neal/Peter/Elizabeth fic that’s been on my tbr list for ages.

13. Any NoTPs?

Just... see above, lol!

14. Go on, who are your BroTPs?

Harry Hart/Merlin, those two are Bro’s until the end and I will fight you on this. Also, Eggsy/Roxy! OMG they are such a BroTP! And Tony/Pepper/Rhodey – I may no like Tony/Pepper as a pairing, but I love them as best friends and of course, our Rhodes, because again, I will fight you on this, they are awesome and Tony needs his best friends!

15. Is there an obscure ship which you love?

I’m not sure there is. I suppose I’ve read a few fics for some random pairings over the years, but nothing that’s made me really ship-ship them. I like Clint Barton/Bucky Barnes, after seeing it as a secondary pairing in a Steve/Tony fic, but I’ve seen that pop up a few times since, so maybe it won’t stay obscure for long!

16. Are their any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

Jack/Sam, Tony/Pepper, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Buffy/Spike – they all seem to be het pairings, oops. But I am mostly a slash fic reader/writer, so I suppose that’s not too surprising.

17. Who was your first OTP and are they still your favourite?

Jack/Daniel from Stargate SG-1. I still love them. I still read them, although it has been a while since I’ve written them on their own (I have got some SG-1/SGA x-overs where they feature)

18. What ship have you written the most about?

I’m genuinely not sure... without going and counting (and I’m not going any counting!) I’d guess Jack/Daniel, McKay/Sheppard, Jack/Ianto and Steve/Danno.

19. Is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

No, not that I can think off. I either like it or not. I do occasionally feel bad for not reading a fic if it’s an author I really like, but I don’t read that fandom or pairing, but nothing specific.

20. Any ships which you surprised yourself by liking?

Robron and Ballum, lol. I do not do soaps!

Author Questions

21. What was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

Stargate SG-1, Jack/Daniel, a story called The Dare, The Disaster, The Almost Happy Ending, And The Very Happy Ending – it was awful. Don’t go looking, lol!

22. Is there anything you regret writing?

Don’t we all? No, I wouldn’t specifically say so. There are certainly fics, especially older ones, I wish I could have written better, but nothing I’d go, ugh I should never have done that.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of & explain why you like it.

Uh... honestly that’s really hard. I... um... yeah, I don’t know, really. I wrote a nice little flower one in POI that I felt worked rather beautifully. The Language of Flowers. An I wrote an SGA fic for NaNo a few years ago, called A Different Life, but it’s not online, because I didn’t finish it yet and I knew I wasn’t going to finish it any time soon, so I didn’t feel it was fair to leave it up unfinished (there is a reason I don’t read WiP fics and I don’t post them either, because I know how much I hate unfinished WiPs) Edit: After writing this I reminded myself of a POI fic I wrote called Hours of Separation – It’s a Harold/John break up story that I always intended to write a sequel too where I ‘fixed’ them, but I just couldn’t do it. I broke them a little too well. But I really love it actually.

24. What fic do you desperately need to rewrite or edit?

The afore mentioned A Different Life needs to be edited and finished, lol! Also a Primeval fic with the working title Crypt Keeper (don’t ask) that I worked myself into a bit of a corner on and I figure out how to fix it, but I haven’t done it yet, so it’s still needs fixing and finishing, lol!

25. What’s your most popular fanfic?

I haven’t the foggiest.

26. How do you come up with your fanfic titles?

Sometimes, really easily, a quote, a line from the fic, a song title... other times it’s like pulling teeth, hence working titles on things like ‘crypt keeper’ which is a reference to one scene near the very start and has no actual hint of the plot, lol!

27. What do you hate more: Coming up with titles or writing summaries?

Oh the titles. Summaries you can just copy a few lines from the fic if you are desperate, if you had to post ‘untitled mcshep fic #67’ people would get cranky, lol, hell I’d get cranky!

28. If someone were to draw a piece of fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

Oh... I... huh. I mean who wouldn’t love fanart for their stories? Any of them honestly! But if I had to choose just one... I guess something in my Animal Instinct verse, which is Primeval (although I always intended to write other fandoms in the verse) where some people transform into animals, based on their ‘spirit animal’ and some art of the characters with their spirit animal form would be awesome.

29. Do you have a beta reader? Why/Why not?

Sometimes, look if you’ve read this far, you know I write in a lot of fandoms, lol. In some fandoms it’s easier than others to find beta readers. Also, sometimes if it’s just something short, I won’t bother. But I do try for my longer fics.

30. What inspires you to write?

That old adage, if you want to read it, sometimes you just have to write it? Spite? Boredom? Honestly sometimes I just have ideas I have to get out of my brain and it’s write or go mad(der)

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

That it inspired them to write something.

32. Do you listen to music when you write or does music inspire you? If so, which band or genre of music does it for you?

Sometimes, sometimes I find it distracting when writing because I end up singing along and forgetting what I’m writing, lol! I do sometimes get inspiration from songs, I guess mostly from the lyrics, but no particular band or genre – although I listen to a lot of country music!

33. Do you write oneshots, multi-chapter fics or huuuuuge epics?

Little from column a, little from column b... littler still from column c...

34. What’s the word count on your longest fic?

Around 60k, I think.

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what do you normally write them about?

I have. Primeval had/has a week drabble challenge, mostly when I’ve written drabbles it’s been for a challenge, with a specific prompt.

36. What’s your favourite genre to write?

Uh... I mean, my fandoms really span the genres, but I guess sci-fi or crime are probably my favourites.

37. First person or third person - what do you write in and why?

Third mostly, I have occasionally written in first person, if it felt like the fic needed it.

38. Do you use established canon characters or do you create OCs?

Little from column a, little from column b... it depends on the fandom and the story. Sometimes you just need more characters, mostly they are minor roles, I don’t tend to write much established character/oc fic

39. What is your greatest strength as a writer?

Ability to convince myself people will want to read it, lol! No actually to be honest, I love to know people read and like my stuff, but I gave up a long time ago on trying to ‘please’ people with what I write. I write what I want to read.

40. What do you struggle the most with in your writing?

Focus. The problem with 21 years of fandom history, is well... 21 years of fandom history. A lot of fandoms, a lot of pairings and as I say, I never really ‘leave’ a fandom, I just drop in and out and sometimes that means I’ll write on something consistently for weeks or months and then end up getting distracted by another fandom again and not touch it for weeks or months again. Hence, I don’t post WiP fics, because I know I’m easily distracted and don’t want anyone to suffer my lack of focus but me.

Fanfiction Questions

41. List and link to 5 fanfics you are currently reading:

I don’t read WiP fics, so yeah... but 5 I’ve recently read in different fandoms that I’ve really enjoyed

Turns Out, I Have a Rose Garden by betheflame (Steve Rogers/Tony Stark)

Lucky by china_shop (Neal Caffery/Peter Burke/Elizabeth Burke)

Colors by Quesarasara (Sherlock/John)

Betrayal by Blackghost7 (Gibbs/DiNozzo)

Matchmaker (Part 1 of the Marmalade Series) by HastaLux, Mottlemoth (Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade)

42. List and link to 5 fanfiction authors who are amazing:

See now this is hard, because... ahh so many...

FredBassett – Primeval author, her Stephen/Ryan series is epic and brilliant and endless

https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett

Keira Marcos – I know other people will have said her, I don’t care. I love all her stuff, across all the fandoms she writes in

http://keiramarcos.com/

theapplepielifestyle – her Steve/Tony is amazing. Hands down some of the best I’ve ever read. I will fight you on this.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle

JillyJames – her Tony DiNozzo is a real life grown up... exactly as he should be considered given he’s a goddamn federal agent!

https://jillyjames.com/

missbecky – I’ve read pretty much all her Steve/Tony and Harry/Eggsy and it’s awesome.

https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky

Honestly, I could have listed so many more, but, I’m being good!

43. Is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

Everyone. The thing is, fandom at it’s best is like crack, the more you get, the more you want. The writing, the gifs, the art... it feeds you and makes you want to make more of it, because more of it needs to exist and if that means you need to do it yourself, so be it!

44. What ship do you feel needs more attention?

ALL OF THEM!

45. What is your all time favourite fanfic?

Oh hell no, not even, I can not. It took me an hour to narrow down 5 authors, I can not narrow down one fanfic!

46. If someone was to read one of your fanfics, which fic would you recommend to them and why?

I mean, it depends on what they like... probably the Hour of Separation I mentioned above, if they like the fandom/pairing, or my Animal Instinct stuff.

47. Archive Of Our Own, Fanfiction.net or Tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

Archive of our Own. I haven’t touched ff.net in *years* since they started getting super restrictive about what you could post. I do occasionally post stuff to tumblr, but mostly I now post to AO3. I did have my own site and I’ve yet to upload a lot of stuff to AO3 – one of these... months... that will be a project – but it’s amazing. Seriously, having been in fandom 20+ years, going from having to search all over a million different places and now it’s all in one place, where we’re honestly, spoiled and protected. The kids now have no idea how crazy impossible that once seemed.

48. Do you leave reviews when you read fanfiction? Why/Why not?

Yes, but not as often as I should. I love AO3s kudos button, so I can sort of say ‘hey I enjoyed this’ without having to comment, because I sort of hate leaving comments just going ‘hey I enjoyed this’ because I always feel like I should say more, like, oh I enjoyed this specific thing, which yes is an unnecessary hang-up, but there ya go.

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why/why not?

Of course it’s nice to get comments, kudos, reblogs etc. I’m not as attached to them now as I was when I was younger, because I learned along the way that it was more important that I like what I’m writing than that other people do, but it’s still nice to know that something I’ve created is enjoyed.

50. How did you get into reading and/or writing fanfiction?

I went looking for Star Trek Voyager stuff online, pics etc, waaaaaaay back when! And I came across fanfiction entirely by accident... and I read some – het stuff mostly, then I started watching Stargate SG-1, went looking for fanfiction for that, but was not on board with Jack/Sam, found Jack/Daniel went ‘huh really? That’s weird’ read it... and yeah... 21 years later... lol!

51. Rant or Gush about one thing you love or hate in the world of fanfiction! Go!

Ship Wars. No seriously, just don’t. Like, who the actual fuck cares. I like my ship, you like your ship. I don’t care if it’s canon or not. I don’t care if it’s popular or not. I don’t read my NoTPs, but I’d never dream of telling someone else not too. Yes I think they are terrible, bad, no good pairings, but that’s *my* opinion. Don’t try to change my mind and I won’t try to change yours. I avoid them like the actual plague. If someone starts that shit around me, I will shut it right down. You are a dick. Go to Jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200.

#fandom life #fandom

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im-currently-daydreaming · 7 years

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You Can Make It (John Reese x reader)

Part 2 So I think Reese is slightly out of character a bit here but ya know. Reese was in a car outside her apartment when Harold started talking to him. "mr. Reese, I believe we've been looking at this all wrong." "What do you mean by that?" "I believe the machine didn't see her as being in danger from others, but in danger from herself." Finch started talking frantically. "Harold...." "John, get up there now!" "Harold, what's wrong?" He asked, getting out of the car and tucking a pistol into the back of his shirt. "Well, if I am correct, she just took a deadly amount of pills. Her intentions are to kill herself!" By this time, he was halfway to her apartment, and began to run. "I'm sending an ambulance to your location." Her door was unlocked, and he stepped in, scanning and checking each room. He paused and stared in the doorway of one. "Finch you better tell them to hurry up." She fell over and lay motionless on her bed. "Y/N? Don't close your eyes....." he knelt beside her. "Stay awake!" Her eyes fluttered closed. "No....don't do that! Open your eyes!" He yelled. "Finch!" "They're almost there John!" "Come on, you can make it." He heard the sirens right after that. "They're here. God." He looked back at her. "Took them long enough."

#John Reese #poi #person of interest #john Reese x reader

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imaginesforfandom · 8 months

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Coding Connection: A Partnership in the Shadows

Requested by @zephindles.

Thank you so much for the request!

Harold Finch x Reader

No pronouns used for the reader

summary: In the digital age, where information reigns supreme, a chance encounter with the enigmatic Harold Finch leads a brilliant computer whiz into a world of hidden surveillance, vigilantism, and moral complexity. As they work together to protect lives flagged by the Machine, a sentient AI, a deep connection grows between them. Despite the weight of their mission and the secrets they hold, a unique bond emerges, one that transcends the digital realm and sparks a love that blossoms in the quiet moments between lines of code and flashes of brilliance. "Coding Connection: A Partnership in the Shadows" is a tale of justice, trust, and the profound connection that can be found in the most unexpected places.

Coding Connection: A Partnership in the Shadows

The world had become a sea of data, an ocean of information that swirled around Harold Finch's brilliant mind. He had built the Machine, a sentient AI that watched over humanity, predicting threats and saving lives. But in the shadows of the digital age, Harold remained hidden, his face unknown to all but a few.

You were a computer whiz, a genius in your own right, and your path crossed with Harold's in the most unexpected way. A chance encounter during an investigation led you to discover the existence of the Machine and the enigmatic man who had created it.

One evening, you received a mysterious message on your computer, a string of numbers and codes that seemed to defy explanation. Intrigued and determined to uncover the truth, you followed the breadcrumbs, which eventually led you to a quiet library on the outskirts of the city.

There, in the dimly lit room filled with ancient books and the soft hum of computers, you found Harold Finch. He was seated at a desk, glasses perched on his nose, fingers dancing across a keyboard. His presence exuded an air of secrecy and intellect that both intrigued and intimidated you.

"Are you Mr. Finch?" you asked cautiously, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

He looked up, his gaze penetrating but kind. "I am. And you must be the one who's been following the trail."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I want to help. I want to understand what you're doing."

Harold studied you for a moment, as if assessing your sincerity. Then, he motioned for you to sit. "It's not a path for the faint of heart. What I do, what the Machine does, it comes with a heavy burden."

You met his gaze, determination in your eyes. "I'm not afraid. I've seen the potential for good that your creation possesses."

Over time, you became Harold's trusted ally, working alongside him to protect those whose lives the Machine flagged as at risk. Together, you delved into the intricate web of data and surveillance, navigating the moral complexities of playing god in a world driven by technology.

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you found yourself drawn to Harold in ways you couldn't explain. His quiet strength, his unwavering commitment to justice, and the way his eyes sparkled with hidden depths all captured your heart.

One evening, as you sat side by side in the library, the soft glow of monitors casting a warm light on his face, you found the courage to voice what had been on your mind.

"Harold," you began hesitantly, "there's something about this work, about you, that I can't ignore."

He turned to you, his expression softening. "And what is it, Y/N?"

You reached for his hand, your fingers interlocking with his. "It's the knowledge that we're making a difference together, and the feeling that maybe, in this vast sea of data, we've found something worth protecting."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he squeezed your hand gently. "I couldn't agree more."

In the midst of a world driven by algorithms and surveillance, you and Harold Finch had found a connection that transcended the digital realm. It was a connection rooted in a shared purpose, an unyielding commitment to justice, and a love that blossomed in the quiet moments between lines of code and flashes of brilliance.

And as you continued to work together, you realized that sometimes, the most profound connections are the ones that are hidden in plain sight, waiting to be uncovered by those who dare to look beyond the surface.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

im so glad that was my first request ever! i was planning on writing a Finch x Reader anyways and this just made me more excited for it ;-;. thank you @zephindles for the request!

#person of interest #harold finch #harold finch imagine #harold finch x reader #harold finch oneshot #harold finch x y/n #im still bad at tags ;-;#poi

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nyx-lyris · 7 months

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best laid plans - h.f.

fighting your own heart is among the hardest battles in the world.

ruth erwin is a college student at nyu in pursuit of a degree in english literature. though a bit older and more experienced than most of her peers, she has no trouble settling into university life once again. she decides to take a class in coding to spice up her schedule a bit - only to find herself struggling more than she would like.

in search of assistance, she finds herself in the office of one harold wren, her gentle and mysterious professor. she finds herself drawn to him, wanting more from him, despite the forbidden nature of such a relationship.

harold, too, despite his better judgment, finds himself wanting more and more of this lovely student of his. he knows there are a hundred and one things that stand between them, but he can't help but feel drawn to her.

but, when her number comes up, the two are placed in an impossible predicament. with so many dangerous secrets standing between them and so many unforeseen variables tying them inextricably together, the way forward seems cloudier than ever. what, in the end, will prevail?

chapter two: something new

weeks passed, each one finding ruth in harold’s office at least once, if not twice. harold had to admit, he’d been taken aback by her desire to do so well in his class - she was majoring in english literature and was hoping to teach someday, either as a high school creative writing teacher or as a university professor. and yet, she came in once or twice a week, like clockwork - always with a new question, a new problem to solve. she invigorated him in a way he hadn’t known was possible.

harold hadn’t been terribly sure of himself at first, taking a job as a college professor. he knew most of his students were fulfilling a requirement for a major. though there were a few bright, passionate students he’d encountered over the years, they were fleeting. His students mostly did the work and attended the lectures, behaving more like automatons than human beings. he’d virtually lost hope that any of them really cared about anything beyond grades - moving on to the next activity, the next job, the next paycheck - existing day to day, without truly living.

then he met ruth erwin. she was older than most of his students - somewhere in her thirties, he guessed - but she had ambition and curiosity that rivaled most of them. she didn’t speak much of her personal life or even of her educational life - not that he expected her to - but he found himself unusually curious about who she was. he often found himself looking forward to her visits - a fact which terrified him.

why did she capture his attention so fully? she was intelligent, determined, beautiful - but there were plenty of students he’d met over the years who fit at least one of those criteria. there was nothing about her that should have piqued harold’s interest. and yet.

a knock sounded at the door and harold jumped, cheeks coloring as he realized he’d become absorbed in his thoughts. rather inappropriate thoughts about a student, who was likely standing behind his office door at this very moment.

“it’s me, professor wren,” ruth’s voice called, confirming his suspicions.

“come in, miss erwin,” harold answered, shifting his attention to the papers in front of him.

the door opened and shut. harold ignored the inappropriate flip of his stomach, the skip of his heart, as she entered the room.

“i have something for you,” he heard her say and he looked up in curiosity. her blue eyes glittered cheerfully behind her glasses and she smiled. his heart fluttered again.

“oh?” he responded, giving her his full attention. wordlessly she handed him a circular tin. a small smile flickered across his face and he carefully removed the lid, the smell of warm cookies filling his nose.

“i hope you like chocolate chip,” she said, drawing harold’s attention back to the girl in front of him.

“is today some special occasion i should know about?” he asked. her smile widened.

“no,” she answered simply, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “i just made these for you because... well, you’ve helped me so much over the past several weeks and i wanted to say thank you.”

harold couldn’t help the smile that spread across his features. “thank you very much, miss erwin,” he said. “this means a lot to me.”

his stomach flipped at the way her face brightened, and he turned away to organize some papers, inwardly chastising himself. she was a student and far too young for him. this must be what a midlife crisis feels like, he thought, helplessly thinking of nathan and the young woman he’d been seeing when he was in the midst of his divorce. he thought of grace.

“so,” he said, forcing himself from his dismal reverie. “what seems to be the trouble today, miss erwin?”

the rest of the hour was spent assisting her with her work. harold was grateful for the distraction - coding and programming, computers, and machines had always made more sense to him than people. he was so dismally ill-prepared to deal with human emotion, especially his own. he was not one to act on impulse, to let his feelings on a matter interfere with his principles - but this young woman...

she was so close now as she looked over his shoulder at her computer, watching his demonstration of an example of the code she was trying to replicate for her homework assignment. the scent of her perfume tangled with the smell of the cookies from the still-open tin, creating a heady mixture that harold was surprised didn’t have young men swarming about her for her attention. he could smell a tinge of what he suspected was her conditioner as well, her long, light-brown hair falling in gentle waves as she leaned forward to inspect the screen.

harold closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself a respite while she was distracted. this was getting out of hand, fast. he knew it had to stop. if he allowed this to continue... he shuddered quietly at the thought. he couldn’t allow himself to become absorbed by passion. she was a student. even if she was an adult she was still too young - vulnerable. he had a duty to protect his students, even if that meant protecting them from himself.

he would resign. it was the only option he had. if feelings got hurt, so be it.

“professor wren?”

harold’s eyes snapped open and his cheeks flushed red. her eyebrows wrinkled together in concern.

“is everything alright?” she asked.

“yes,” he answered, clearing his throat. “yes, i’m quite alright, i just... didn’t get much sleep last night.”

that wasn’t entirely a lie. he rarely got much in the way of sleep these days, between the numbers he worked with john and the pain caused by his injury.

she nodded, though he could see the disbelief in her eyes. she didn’t ask any questions though, merely typed the required code into the program. then she ran it, grinning when the desired results came through. harold couldn’t help the small, proud smile on his face.

“thank you, professor wren,” she said, turning to him, a playful glint in her eyes. “you’ll make a master coder of me yet!”

harold’s smile widened and he chuckled warmly, rising with her as she gathered her things to leave.

“have a good afternoon, miss erwin,” he said, watching her leave. “and thank you for your gift.”

she paused in the doorway, an odd smile on her face. “you’re very welcome, professor wren.”

and just like that, she was gone.

the relative warmth of september gave way to the chill of october. harold and john managed to save investigative reporter maxine angelis without becoming a front-page news story. ruth erwin continued to stop by harold’s office. the resignation papers remained unfinished on harold’s desk.

a few more numbers came and went. graham wyler and his family. the brilliant dr. madeline enwright and her wife amy. daniel and sabrina drake, co-owners of a publishing company. ruth continued to ask for help and harold continued to give it. the resignation papers became buried under a swath of papers in need of grading.

he knew he needed to finish them, submit them to his employer, and find somewhere else to work. maybe go into insurance, as he had initially planned, or find some smaller community college, somewhere more low-profile. after all, the further under the radar he could stay, the better. but, despite his inner chastising and determination to finally sit down and finish the job, he always seemed to find some excuse not to do it. he told himself he was doing it for his students - at least waiting until the end of the semester, so his employers wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a new professor in the middle of the term.

otherwise, things seemed to be going just fine. it was a saturday and harold was out for a walk on new york’s busy streets, bear trotting along contently beside him. despite the general hubbub around him, the day felt strangely peaceful. however, as with most good things in harold’s life, the peace didn’t last long.

the sound of a payphone ringing pulled harold from his thoughts and he paused, giving himself one more moment before limping over to the booth and picking up the phone. he’d long since figured out a way to memorize the string of words the machine gave him, so he had no need for a pen and paper. it was safer, he figured - he couldn’t risk someone finding his note, should it fall out of his pocket, and use it to find him and john and potentially expose the machine.

he contacted john, informing them they had another number, then returned to their base of operations. he moved with ease through the library, finding the three books he needed, then settling down in his chair to type in the number.

his eyes widened at the image of the young woman who appeared on the screen, his blood running cold.

their new number was ruth erwin.

prev chapter - next chapter

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter from harold's perspective! the perspective will jump around a bit as the story needs it to, so i hope that adds something to the story. i'll post this chapter to ao3 tomorrow if you want to read it there. hope you guys are doing well and thank you so much for reading! let me know if there's anything i can do to improve my writing :)

ao3 link to best laid plans

#person of interest #harold finch #john reese #michael emerson #harold finch x reader #harold finch x oc #person of interest fanfiction

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nyx-lyris · 6 months

Text

best laid plans - h.f.

fighting your own heart is among the hardest battles in the world.

chapter five: so close to something

ruth’s heart didn’t stop pounding all day. she felt as if she had a bomb in her bag, and if she burned too hot she would set it off. she knew with absolute certainty that she shouldn’t do this, but she had to do something. if he rejected her, that was fine. it was what she expected him to do, gentleman that he was. she hardly allowed herself to imagine him saying yes, giving in to her plea.

ever since the day she first saw him at the front of the computer lab, frazzled and apologetic, she’d been intrigued by him. now that she’d spent nearly every other afternoon with him, she was even more so. everything about him pulled her in. his intelligence and impressive vocabulary. his elegance and politness. his excellent taste in literature and suits. the quiet way he commanded a room. his old-fashioned manners and way of speaking. but especially the air of mystery that burned her mind and heart, made her want to know as much about him as she could.

it was only when she saw him smile for the first time - that day when she brought him a tin of chocolate chip cookies - that she realized just what she was feeling. she’d been writing letters to him for weeks, had even written him a few poems, and still, she hadn’t understood until that moment just what she felt for him. this mysterious, kind, odd professor of hers had captured her heart.

but that’s just it, she reminded herself. he’s a professor - not to mention at least twenty years older than you. even if he was interested - which he likely isn’t - he wouldn’t risk it. he’s no fool and neither are you.

despite her internal reprimands, however, her heart still skipped at the sight of him as she entered the computer lab. her cheeks were already burning red and she was grateful for the relative privacy she had behind her computer screen. here, she was expected to watch him - to listen intently, as his student - and she took full advantage of this fact.

she was amazed at how much he had endeared himself to her without even trying. his wide, intelligent blue eyes, hidden behind his glasses, that seemed to hold a thousand secrets; his spiky, fluffy hair that she wanted to run her hands through; his large, worn hands she wished she could hold in hers; the way his suits fit him just right; the gentle set of his mouth. everything about him seemed so soft and gentle - and yet there were moments when he commanded the room, an undercurrent of fervor and passion running beneath his words. she was particularly paused by this, as it appeared to come very naturally to him, despite his apparent disposition.

ruth hardly registered the meaning of the words professor wren was saying, too caught up in the soothing quality of his voice. she could swear his eyes flickered to hers more than once throughout his lecture, but she quickly dismissed it - she was probably just seeing what she wanted to see. and even if he was looking at her, there was probably something more official on his mind. she refused to allow herself to consider the possibility that he felt the same pull to her that she did to him.

class ended far too soon, but now that it was over ruth was keen on getting out of the room as quickly as possible. she had a free period, then history with professor hawkins - then she waited three agonizing hours to see harold in his office, as per usual. she needed to get some air, clear her head. she felt almost dizzy with the weight of her emotions, the volume of her thoughts - like someone had trapped her in the smallest, loudest box they could find.

so caught up in her thoughts was she that she hardly noticed when nicholas and lucas began to approach her.

“hey, babe,” nicholas’s voice filtered through her consciousness and she froze. “i noticed you haven’t been returning my emails. something wrong?”

ruth looked up at nicholas, praying her face betrayed none of the fear roiling in her gut.

“you know exactly why i’m not returning your emails, nicholas,” she answered icily, heart pounding. “i hardly know you and i’m not interested in you romantically. i’m not going to give you what you want and you’re going to have to deal with that.”

she’d met nicholas wood at a club that her friend emily had taken her to. she hadn’t wanted to go out - clubs were precisely the opposite of her usual scene - but she’d gone on the shopping trip to find dresses with her friend, so she figured she should go if only to be polite. emily had gushed over nicholas nearly the whole ride over - “blond hair, dreamy blue eyes, and muscles - he's gorgeous!” - but she’d known from the instant she laid eyes on him that she wasn’t interested. he had playboy written all over him and she’d never been terribly fond of the chris hemsworth/chris evans types anyway.

truthfully, she’d been more pulled toward his friend, lucas newman. he had skin the color of milk chocolate, flecked with freckles, and a pair of bright brown eyes that instantly drew her in. he wore glasses, too, which only increased her attraction. he was more polite than nicholas, too, and seemed a bit more intelligent. but even him ruth was careful with - anyone hanging around a guy with a reputation like nicholas’s was more than likely nothing but trouble.

both boys had flirted with both her and emily - but as soon as emily slipped away to use the restroom, it was as if she’d never been there. ruth allowed them each a kiss, despite her better judgment. but, as soon as she felt nicholas’s hand sliding up her thigh, she excused herself, leaving emily to flirt with them a little longer before suggesting they leave.

neither of them mentioned the incident again and, when she and emily were paired up with them for a class project, they were polite as could be. however, it was only a respite. soon they were finding excuses to talk to her outside of class, emailing her with sexual promises she had no intention of showing up for. they’d tried every angle of manipulating her, trying to get her alone, to convince her that she wanted them. she, in turn, had explained that she didn’t just give herself to every guy she found attractive - she would give herself to the man she fell in love with, and only him.

of course, that didn’t stop them.

and here they stood again, ready to harass her once more. nicholas was laughing now and the smile on lucas’s face was enough to send chills through her.

“oh, come on, ruth. why are you fighting this so hard? i can see it in your eyes,” he murmured. “you want us. badly. why don’t you just give in?”

she hated to admit he was half right. she did find lucas attractive, and even nicholas she could agree was objectively good-looking. but good looks meant very little in the long run.

“i happen to have standards for the guys i date,” ruth bit back, her anger swelling. “harassing me will get you nothing. and if this doesn’t stop, i will go to the authorities.”

“oh you will, will you?” lucas’s low and seductive voice filtered into her ear, and ruth suppressed a shudder. he chuckled. “we’ll get you one of these days. and you won’t just like it - you’ll love it.”

ruth opened her mouth to speak again but was cut off by an all-too-familiar voice.

“what’s this about?” professor wren asked sternly.

nicholas smiled pleasantly. “oh, nothing, professor,” he answered. “just asking this lovely lady out on a date is all.”

professor wren’s face remained neutral, but there was steel in the set of his jaw.

“by the sounds of things, this young woman is not interested,” he said, a dark edge in the marrow of his words. “i suggest you move along.”

nicholas appeared completely unphased. “we’re not looking for any trouble, professor. we’ll be on our way.”

then he turned and walked away. lucas lingered a moment to offer ruth a wink before following him. ruth shut her eyes, unwittingly imagining punching the self-satisfied smirks off their faces so hard they bled - before quickly shaking her head.

thinking like that makes you just as bad as them, she reminded herself sternly. they deserve punishment, not cruelty.

“are you alright, miss erwin?” professor wren’s voice sounded in ruth’s ear, pulling her from her thoughts.

she gave herself another moment to gather herself, then met his gaze, pointedly ignoring the way her heart fluttered at the genuine concern in his eyes.

“yes,” she answered, surprised by the steadiness of her voice. “i’m alright.”

he seemed to hesitate for a moment. she waited, letting her eyes run over his face as he considered.

“if you ever need anything,” he said slowly, his eyes averted. “or if they ever bother you again - tell me.”

his eyes lifted to meet hers and she inhaled sharply at the look in his eyes. then she smiled tightly and nodded.

“of course,” she answered, tone again surprisingly steady. now it was her turn to hesitate. “see you later?”

a ghost of a smile flickered over his face. when he answered, his voice was warm.

“of course, miss erwin.” ruth smiled. nodded. then turned and left, heartbeat pounding in her ears.

ruth’s heartbeat was somehow even louder than before as she made her way to professor wren’s office later that day. her hands were trembling something fierce, and she was afraid she would drop the boxes of sencha green tea and pastries she was holding in her hands. a million thoughts shot through her head at once, mostly telling her she never should have slipped that letter under his door. there were a million reasons why she shouldn’t do this, and yet here she was.

when she finally arrived in front of professor wren’s office, she hesitated. he was right there, behind that door - all she had to do was open it.

she stood there for fifteen minutes, barely noticing the time passing as her thoughts raced back and forth.

you gave him the letter, she thought finally. you brought this upon yourself. it would be cowardly not to own up to it.

so, she shut her eyes. took a deep breath. and knocked on the door.

it was silent for a moment.

“come in.” she took another shaky breath, then opened the door. she knew exactly how she looked - like a lovesick schoolgirl, desperately trying to win the favor of her person of interest. her eyes were wide, though she did her best to school her features into something resembling normalcy.

“hello, professor,” she said, cringing at how small her voice sounded. “i brought you something.”

she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so she focused on setting her gifts down on the desk. then she busied herself with slipping out of her bag and her coat. she was almost certain he could see her shaking. the silence between them was deafening.

“i received your letter.” his voice was quieter and more fragile than she’d ever heard it before, and she couldn’t help but look up at him.

his eyes were averted and his features were tight. she could almost see the thoughts racing behind his eyes, and she held her breath.

he didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered. he looked up, eyes wide. “i know i shouldn’t have. i don’t expect you to... reciprocate. i've just been living with this for weeks now and i... i guess i just had to say it.”

she couldn't meet his eyes. the silence stretched for so long ruth wondered if he would respond at all. tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. this was too much. she should have just kept her mouth shut, left well enough alone. her vision blurred and she bowed her head even lower.

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he finally answered, voice shaky. she dared briefly to look up, inhaling sharply at the broken look on his face.

his mouth was open, motions paused, like he wanted to continue but wasn’t sure if he should.

"you have nothing to apologize for," he repeated, gaze still averted. “because i feel just as you do.”

ruth’s mouth fell open. that was not what she had been expecting. she’d been expecting him to turn cold - to politely inform her of the fact that her actions were extremely inappropriate and that if she wished for more help with his class she could find a tutor or a classmate to help her. she expected him to push her away. in all the scenarios she had concocted, she had never once allowed herself to consider this as an option.

quickly she shut her mouth, pulling her glasses off and wiping away her tears. she didn’t know what to say.

“and as much as it pains me to say,” he continued, his voice strained. “and though i’m sure you already know - we cannot continue in this vein.”

fresh tears began to fill her eyes, but she quickly swiped them away. he was right - she’d known this was what was waiting for her. but, his confession had made her brave and she wasn’t about to lose this. she wanted now more than ever to see where this went, risk be damned.

“i know what the rules say,” she began carefully. “but... i’ve never been terribly fond of rules.”

he met her eyes and she could see something spark within them like he wanted badly to agree with her. but that spark quickly faded, covered with some darker emotion that she couldn't place.

“it’s more than that,” he continued, a heaviness filling his voice. he paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “i am... not who you think i am.”

“what do you mean?” she asked. he looked as if he were about to shatter.

“i can’t tell you,” he answered. his voice was tight. he cautiously met her gaze. “all i can tell is that to be with me would put you at great risk, and i cannot allow that.”

ruth’s eyes widened a fraction, then narrowed as she considered the implications of his words.

“are you in some kind of legal trouble?” she asked. his eyes widened as he looked at her. “are you running from someone - or hiding?”

she saw something flicker in his eyes at her last word. then her eyes widened. it was no wonder something had felt slightly off about his office - his was the only professor’s office she’d ever been to that was so empty. there were no pictures of family and friends, no personal knick-knacks, nothing to indicate much about who he was - except perhaps the few books on his shelf. she’d always pinned him as a loner - though likely not by choice - but she’d never thought about why. her eyes found his again.

“harold wren isn’t your real name, is it?” she whispered. “and this job - your life - it’s not...”

“please,” he said, voice quiet. “i understand your need to know more, to understand for yourself - but for your sake - and, quite frankly, for mine - please...”

he left his sentence unfinished but his meaning was quite clear. ruth didn’t move, eyes fixed on his. if he was hiding from someone, his cover had to be quite good for him to have remained hidden for at least several months, if not several years. and if his cover was good enough to protect him from people that made him fear for his life as well as the lives of the people around him, that meant the people after him had to be powerful.

“please - just answer me one question,” she said, voice wavering. “are you... did you... commit a crime? is it police who’s after you?”

no, that didn’t sound right. if he was this afraid, it wouldn’t just be some group of cops after him. it had to be something larger than that.

“is it the government?” she asked quickly, careful to keep her voice low.

he pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes widening a fraction, warning her, pleading with her. she kept her eyes fixed on his.

"please," she said. "i need to know if you're not the man i thought you were."

after a moment, he nodded briefly, averting his gaze. she could almost see him calculating the risk of telling her the truth. the pain in his eyes nearly made her regret what she'd just said. someone who had committed something truly atrocious wouldn't look as pained and heartbroken as he did now. or maybe he's just manipulating you and you're too blind to see the monster lurking beneath. ruth swallowed hard at the thought - but after a moment dismissed it. he was too gentle, too kind, too polite. he wasn't intentionally charming or domineering. he wasn't like nicholas or lucas. he was different.

ruth closed her eyes and took a deep breath. then she made her way around his desk to kneel beside his chair. hesitantly, she place her hand over his arm, a spark coursing through her hand at the contact. his gaze immediately turned to where her hand was placed, before slowly sliding back up to her face.

“please,” she murmured. she fixed her gaze intently on him, hoping that her eyes would convey the truth in her words. “you can trust me.”

his mouth fell open for a moment, then he shut it again, mind still seemingly running a million calculations a minute. ruth hesitated a moment, then stood up halfway, reaching up and cradleing his cheek. his breath hitched at the contact and a spark of electricity flew through her. she wasn’t too close, but she was close enough. she caught his eyes flicking down to her lips and she couldn’t help but smile.

“i don't think you committed any truly heinous act,” she whispered. “and whatever it is you did, i’m sure you had a good reason. i don't believe you hurt anyone.”

he remained silent. her hand was still on his cheek, her other hand resting on his arm. her eyes flickered over him for a moment, suddenly remembering something.

“your injury,” she continued. she felt him tense beneath her and she nodded. “it was their fault wasn’t it - the people who are after you.”

“no,” he replied, voice soft and broken. “they may have manufactured the incident, but it was my fault it happened in the first place.”

ruth searched his face for a moment. “you lost someone.”

his gaze slipped from hers and he swallowed hard. it was a long moment before he spoke again.

“everyone i’ve ever been close to i’ve either lost or had to leave behind.”

then his eyes met hers, wide and honest and full of pain. ruth hadn’t realized how close she’d gotten, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. he didn’t say it, but his meaning was as clear as a summer’s day. don’t make me lose you, too.

she smiled, tears pricking her eyes. he was so broken, so alone - and he would rather survive alone with a broken heart than put those he cared about in danger. there was a part of her mind telling her to do what he said - to respect his wishes, to trust him, to make the safe choice, the smart choice - but she couldn’t move. they were so close now, foreheads almost touching. his lips were barely an inch from hers - and she could see his eyes flicking down.

“we can’t do this,” he whispered weakly, but it was clear his resolve was breaking.

ruth’s lips brushed his once and a shiver flew through her body. professor wren took a shaky breath but didn’t move. she brushed her lips against his again, barely suppressing the whine snaking its way up her throat.

“miss erwin, we can't,” he murmured, likely in a last-ditch effort to stop what was happening.

“harold, please,” she whimpered. his breath hitched at the sound of his name on her lips.

the moment that passed next seemed to last a hundred years. ruth’s pulse roared in her ears.

then he pressed his lips to hers, gentle and chaste, and ruth couldn’t help the whine that escaped her. she began gently rubbing the skin of his cheek with her thumb and she felt his hand come to rest over her wrist. her other hand slid up his arm to his shoulder and she felt him hum at the contact, causing her to shiver.

when they pulled apart they were both breathless, and ruth couldn’t help but blush. she felt a giddy feeling rising within her, but she stamped it down - just because he lost himself to passion for a moment didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. he seemed frozen beneath her, and when ruth pulled away slightly, it took him a moment to remember himself, to open his eyes and close his mouth. his cheeks were flushed just as red as hers and she couldn’t help but smile.

then he began to slide out of her grasp. she nodded, stepping back as he rose from his chair. she was about to turn around to gather her things when she felt a gentle hand close around her wrist - first holding her in place, then pulling her close. normally, he was a good five inches taller than her, but her three-inch heels put her only a couple of inches shy of his height, and well within reaching distance. even so, she didn’t move. it was purely his choice what happened next - even if that meant she left and never came back.

she hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she felt a hand on her cheek, causing her to open them. he was so close. she did everything she could to keep her eyes on his.

“we shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered.

ruth smiled, one hand resting on his arm, the other slipping from his grip and landing on his shoulder.

“but we are,” she whispered in return.

she hesitated, then met his gaze.

“i don’t care if this is the only moment we have,” she said. “if this is it, or... or there are a thousand more to come...”

his eyes widened a fraction at her implication and she smiled, her cheeks burning.

“either way,” she continued. “thank you. for everything.”

a small, pained smile flickered across his face. then, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers.

“truthfully, i... don’t want this to be the last moment,” he murmured. ruth’s heart fluttered. “perhaps, you’ll meet me for dinner one night?”

ruth pulled away, searching his eyes. he's serious.

"when?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

"how about wednesday? nine pm?"

ruth gave him a look. “that’s a little late for dinner, don’t you think?”

his eyes met hers, a serious expression crossing his face.

“i thought it might be best to avoid the rush hour,” he answered.

“oh,” ruth answered. "right, of course."

there wouldn't be as many people in the restaurant then - and the fewer people who knew they were together the better.

he nodded, then smiled, wider and more genuinely than she had ever seen him. it made her heart flutter to know she was the cause of that smile. in response, she gently wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him close, relishing the feeling of his arms around her back and waist. then she pressed a kiss to his cheek, a smile spreading across her face as she stepped away.

just as ruth was headed out the door, she paused, turning back once more to face him. his eyes found hers and she smiled.

“see you wednesday, professor wren.”

“see you wednesday, miss erwin.”

prev chapter - next chapter

a/n: the next chapter, as promised! i hope you all enjoyed it and thank you so much for reading!

ao3 link to best laid plans

#person of interest #harold finch #michael emerson #harold finch x reader #harold finch x oc #fanfiction #person of interest fanfiction #michael emerson x oc #michael emerson x reader

4 notes · View notes

nyx-lyris · 7 months

Text

best laid plans h.f.

fighting your own heart is among the hardest battles in the world.

chapter three: a discovery

harold was at his desk, typing away at his computer as usual, when john walked into the library.

“i got your message, finch,” he said by way of greeting. “what are we dealing with here?”

harold glanced up at john, then rose from his chair, motioning to the glass board in front of them. taped to it was a picture of a young woman with long light brown hair, blue eyes framed by a pair of dark glasses, and a round face. she appeared innocent enough, but john knew very well that appearances could be deceiving.

“her name is ruth erwin,” harold began in his usual neutral tone. “she’s thirty-two years old, single, lives alone. she’s currently attending college with aims to become a professor of english literature.”

“she have any friends or family?” john asked, approaching the board. he had to admit, there was something familiar about the girl’s face, although he couldn’t say exactly what.

“her family lives out of state,” harold answered. “she has a few friends in her apartment complex, and she keeps in touch with a few out-of-state friends, but that’s about it.”

“you said she’s single,” john continued. “was she ever in a relationship? maybe an ex-boyfriend came back to haunt her?”

“as far as i can tell, she’s had very few romantic attachments,” harold continued. “it’s unlikely that’s the source of the threat.”

“you manage to dig up anything else about her?”

“yes. she previously graduated college with a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. she worked for a small firm that designs hvac systems for commercial buildings.”

“any threats there?” john asked, turning to face harold. “not that i can tell. the company went under a few years after ‘09. they had some financial trouble, but it’s doubtful anyone would go after miss erwin on that account.”

john turned back to the glass board, examining her photo once more. why did she seem so familiar?

“so we have no idea where the threat is coming from,” he murmured.

when harold didn’t respond, john looked back. harold was focused intently on whatever was on his screen, but there was something slightly off about his posture.

“finch?” john asked. harold looked up, eyes guarded. “everything alright?”

harold opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again.

“miss erwin,” he said after a moment. “is not entirely unfamiliar to me.”

john watched harold’s face, patiently waiting for him to continue.

“she’s one of my students.”

john returned his gaze to the board. he had seen her before. several weeks ago, he’d gone to visit harold at work to inform him the threat to their number at the time had been neutralized. just as he was about to enter his office, a young woman with a backpack over her shoulder opened the door. now he had a name to put to the face.

john gently traced her image on the board, his brow furrowing. he remembered something else about that day as well. harold had seemed different - lighter, brighter, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, if only momentarily. john’s gaze returned to his partner. his fingers had frozen on the keys and he, too, was staring at the photo on the board. he hadn’t seemed to notice that john was watching him. there was something strange in his eyes, something john couldn’t place.

“finch?” john finally asked, tentatively breaking the silence. harold seemed to return to reality, gaze falling on john as if remembering that he was still there. john arched a brow. “are you sure you’re alright?”

harold’s eyes were more guarded than john had ever seen them.

“i’m fine,” he answered.

no, you’re not, john thought in response. but he knew better than to push harold - he would talk when he was ready, and right now he wasn’t.

“i’ll send you her address,” harold continued after a moment. “you can get into her apartment, see what you can find out. i’ll stay here and dig up more clues.”

john nodded and began walking toward the staircase, sparing one last glance back at his partner, before making his way out of the library.

john picked the lock and slipped into ruth’s apartment with ease. he was still for a moment, listening to ensure she wasn’t at home, before stepping inside. the apartment itself was small but lived in. there was a living room just to john’s left; along the left wall was a coat closet and sliding glass door that led to a balcony overlooking the city; straight ahead of him was a door that he assumed led to ruth’s bedroom; and to his right was a conjoined kitchen and laundry room, and a small dining area.

immediately what stood out to him was how bright the place looked. there wasn’t much in the way of a coherent theme. splashes of turquoise and pink stood out against the whites and greys of most of the apartment. she had several plants - a couple of larger, tree-like plants, as well as several orchids and bamboo plants scattered throughout. pictures of her family and friends and a couple of well-done paintings - which, from the signatures at the bottom, john surmised were painted by a family member - filled the walls.

john slipped into her bedroom, sticking a flash drive into the usb port on her laptop. in the meantime he began poking through her things. there was a file cabinet beside her desk that contained primarily financial, educational, and work records. from what he could surmise at a glance, nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary.

the rest of her room proved to be just as unhelpful in determining a threat. her desk drawers were filled mostly with journals filled with old diary entries and jotted-down ideas for what appeared to be characters and stories. the bookshelf to the right of her bed proved useless as well - though john learned that she appeared to be fond of a variety of subjects. she had several keepsake boxes underneath her bed, filled with old drawings and paintings, school projects, and old photographs, some from when she was just a kid.

he heard a beep from her laptop, indicating that the upload to the flash drive was complete. john sighed, rising to retrieve it, hoping that perhaps the contents of her computer would be more illuminating. but, as he pulled the flash drive from the computer, something caught his eye - a small box, tucked away in the corner of her desk. he wasn’t sure why, but something told him to open it.

john hesitated a moment, the rational part of his mind telling him it was probably just more of the same. then he shrugged, placing the flash drive in his pocket and picking up the box - it was the last box and he might as well cover all the bases.

it was a square-shaped cardboard box, the lid tied on with a string of twine. her initials were written on the bottom right corner, but other than that it was fairly nondescript. carefully, he untied the twine and removed the lid, placing them on the desk. what he saw made his eyebrows fly up. a collection of what appeared to be letters and poetry filled the box, all addressed to one person - professor wren. for a moment, john let his curiosity get the better of him, and he began to read a few of the most recent additions to the box.

they were well-written and rather touching, telling him all about her life and her interests. the poems were surprisingly lovely as well, and john found himself smiling. the woman clearly cared about harold. for a moment, john contemplated telling harold but quickly decided against it. these were her feelings to divulge, not his. instead, he took pictures of each of the pages, to read later.

his mission completed, john slipped back out the front door and through the back entrance of the apartment building, unnoticed as usual. as he walked down the streets of new york back towards the library, he made a mental note to watch harold’s behavior more closely. perhaps there was more to harold’s relationship with this number than met the eye.

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a/n: hello everyone! i apologize for posting a day late - there was a lot distracting me over the weekend... anyway, i hope you enjoy this latest installment of best laid plans and thank you so much for reading!

ao3 link to best laid plans

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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

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Harold Finch Fic List

Happy Wednesday 🌹🍆🔒(in progress) (Ao3 | tumblr)

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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

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Happy Wednesday

Chapter 17

Harold didn’t know what else to do, there was no other option as far as he could see. He needed you.

‘Harold, what is it?’ You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing loudly. You weren’t in the mood for a late night call. You hadn’t heard from Harold in weeks, not since you left on an icy note.

‘Please,’ he was crying. ‘I need to see you. Please, can I see you?’

‘What happened?’ You said, turning the light on and sitting up.

‘Evelyn, please, I just…’ he was breathing heavily, panicking. You jumped out of bed and began shoving on whatever clothes were nearby.

‘I’m coming.’ You said. ‘Harold, I’ll be at the library in twenty minutes, can you hang on?’

‘Yes, please hurry.’ Harold cried hard before hanging up.

You raced over to the library, not caring that you hadn’t alerted your security team. Harold needed you.

You ran up the stairs, Bear met you at the top, rushing with you to find Harold holding his head in his hands at his desk. He looked a mess, his tie was laying next to his glasses in front of him, and he was shaking.

‘Harold?’ You whispered, striding over to him. You placed your hand on his shoulder gently. ‘Hey, I’m here.’ Harold reached up to hold your hand, he was sweating and cold. ‘What happened to you?’

Harold turned his head a little, his cheeks wet with tears and you couldn’t help yourself. You kneeled down next to him, wiping away the wetness over his face.

‘You came.’ His voice was hoarse.

‘You asked me to.’ You smiled, sympathetically. ‘You sounded like you needed some help.’ He turned his head a little more to look at you. ‘What do you need, Harold? Just tell me and it’s yours.’

He was quiet for the longest time, something awful was going through his head, but you couldn’t tell what it was.

‘There was a bomb.’ He mustered. ‘It was strapped to John’s chest… I thought I was going to die…’ you sucked in a harsh breath, your hand still stroking his cheek. ‘All I could think about was how much I’d hurt you… I deserve to die without your forgiveness, I deserve to be punished for what I did.’

‘No, Harold,’ you shook your head, twisting his chair so that you knelt directly in front of him. ‘That is not your choice to make.’ You told him firmly. ‘You understand me, I will decide if I can forgive you, but you made a choice that was the right choice, knowing that it would mean we couldn’t be together, I’ve never blamed you for that. You don’t deserve to be punished for doing what you did to protect what we made. You don’t.’

Harold heard you, but whether he believed you was a different story. ‘I don’t deserve you anymore.’ He said, that statement hurting more than any other. ‘The only thing I want in the whole world and I don’t deserve it. I broke it, the promises I made to you, I treated them like they were nothing.’

‘You never lied to me, Harold.’ You shook your head. ‘You were always honest, and you always took care of me, you’re still taking care of me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.’ You had in fact seen an increase in NYPD cars roaming around your block, likely something to do with Harold co-ordinating with Fusco and Carter.

‘I always hated your apartment.’ Harold confessed. ‘I always thought we’d get a house together, get married, and have a beautiful life together.’

‘So, did I.’ You smiled a little. ‘But life so rarely gives us what we want. It’s much more chaotic than that. All we can do is the best with what we have.’

Harold nodded. ‘You’re right. You were always right.’ Harold looked down at your face, examining every part of it, committing it to memory. ‘I’m still in love with you.’ You felt your heart cracking the same way it had been every time you spoke with Harold. You swallowed hard. ‘I don’t expect you to say it back, or even feel it, but you’re right, our best is all we can do, after that, it’s out of our hands.’

‘Yes, it is.’ You nodded.

‘I’m sorry I woke you.’ Harold frowned for a moment. ‘You must be exhausted.’

‘I am.’ You half laughed. ‘Why don’t we get some sleep? You look like you could do with some rest yourself.’

Harold’s eyes widened. ‘You mean you… in the same bed?’

You stood up straight, knowing that Harold needed this, and one night spent next to him might just be what you needed to.

‘You said you needed me,’ you could feel your adrenaline wearing off. ‘And it’s either this or the floor.’

You slid your hand into Harold’s and led him towards the bedroom he’d let you stay in while you were healing.

Harold was the perfect gentleman, despite wanting to watch you all night, he refused to turn around while you took your trousers off. You hadn’t bothered taking your oversized t-shirt off, instead shoving on a pair of sweatpants and Harold’s old brown jumper. You slid under the sheets and watched Harold exit the bathroom in his own pyjamas.

He hesitantly slid in next to you and lay flat staring at the ceiling, you watched him, still wide awake. You sighed and decided it was ridiculous to deny yourselves any longer. You moved closer to him, snuggling close to his body and wrapping your arms around him.

Harold was warm, breathing a little heavy for your liking, but he was beginning to relax and your eyes were growing heavier by the second.

‘If you’re uncomfortable at any point-‘

‘Harold.’ You mumbled into his shoulder.

‘Yes?’

‘Go to sleep.’

You woke feeling a warm body wrapped around yours, the familiar sounds of soft breathing close to your shoulder and neck, fingers interlocked with yours, legs tangled and the feeling of home seeping into your bones.

The sun was just starting to come up and you couldn’t have been asleep for very long, but the chance to feel Harold around you once more was worth remaining awake just a little longer for.

You remembered so many nights spent next to him, some of them more clearly than others. You loved the sound of Harold in a deep sleep, one that you knew he’d be well rested from, one that he sorely needed. You loved the feel of his body holding onto yours like he was scared to let go. And you adored the moments he woke, realising his position and kissed whatever skin he could reach.

Harold adjusted his position behind you, pulling you closer for a moment, his mouth grazing below your ear, sending warmth through your being, before letting go, realising where he was. He began moving back and away, but you weren’t ready.

‘Don’t.’ You whispered. ‘Please don’t let go.’

Harold didn’t move for a moment, contemplating what it meant, but eventually you felt his body settle against yours, pulling you closer once again. You found yourself pressing back against Harold, needing his body heat, needing to feel him loving you.

It was a moment, before Harold relaxed properly behind you, feeling like you really did want him to hold you. It was everything he needed.

You dozed for a while, just allowing the sun to come up before even considering getting out of bed. Harold shifted a little, before needing to lie on his back, it seemed he was in some discomfort and you suddenly remembered his injury. You turned to snuggle into his side, trying to be careful about where you put your weight.

‘Are you in pain?’ You whispered, your hand placed gently on Harold’s chest.

‘I’m used to it.’ He whispered back. You noticed his breathing was a little heavy.

‘Tell me what you need.’

Harold pulled his knees up and you shifted your lower body out of the way. ‘I’m just a little stiff.’ He moved his hips a little to try to loosen up his lower body.

‘If you need to get up…?’

Harold thought about it, before deciding it was best for him to get out of bed. You watched him struggle to stand, his hand going to his neck as he leaned against the wall for support. Your instinct was to get up and try to help.

‘No.’ Harold panted. ‘Please, I’m fine.’

You stepped back for a moment, letting him breathe through the pain, but it was too much for you to bear.

‘Harold, please let me help.’ You placed your hand on his lower back, making him flinch, but it seemed that your soft touch was exactly what he needed to feel some relief.

You listened to his breathing, assessing just how much pressure was needed and you soon felt just how stiff he really was. You massaged the tense muscle, slowly moving his shirt out of the way to massage the skin directly. The sound of relief that came from Harold was a surprise, but one that you knew he needed.

You continued to run your fingers over the scarred skin, never thinking twice about it and gently resting your head between his shoulder blades.

‘How’s that?’ You whispered.

Harold breathed out and you heard the smile he had on his face. ‘I haven’t felt such relief… ever.’

You closed your eyes, still massaging his back. ‘You need me to do your neck as well?’ You offered.

‘I don’t…’ Harold hesitated. ‘It’s okay. You’ve done enough.’ His hand came around to stop yours and you knew where this was heading.

‘Harold,’ you placed your free hand on top of his. ‘Please don’t do this.’ You begged. ‘You asked for my help, and I came. Don’t push me away now.’

Harold breathed deeply for a few minutes, thinking on what he should do.

‘I’m sorry.’ He breathed. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this.’

You swallowed hard and slowly took your hand away from his back. You felt disappointment fill your chest and tears fill your eyes. You felt humiliated. Harold had never done that to you before. You stepped away and Harold didn’t dare look back.

You cleared your throat, deciding enough was enough, you weren’t going to stand to be treated like this again. You went to pick up your clothes and leave, clearly you were no longer needed.

‘Wait.’ Harold stopped you. You turned reluctantly to see him leaning back against the wall, staring at you, his eyes scanning over your bare legs before shooting up to your face. He swallowed thickly. ‘I forgot something.’ You frowned, not understanding. ‘You were always more beautiful first thing in the morning than any other time of day.’ He swallowed again. ‘I always thought I imagined it, but every morning you’d get out of bed and I’d see the light surrounding you… like it is now.’

Harold’s eyes held yours, you knew what it would usually mean; whenever Harold looked at you like that before, you went back to bed and didn’t leave for an entire weekend. But this time, Harold didn’t move towards you, he wasn’t going to kiss you and you probably wouldn’t spend all day in bed.

‘I don’t know what that means anymore.’ You whispered.

Harold pushed himself off the wall, being careful not to take too many steps towards you in case you rejected him.

‘It means, I will never stop loving you,’ another sting in your chest. ‘And I think a part of you still loves me. I asked you to come here when I needed something, when I needed you, and you came without hesitation… people only do that when something still lingers between them.’ Harold’s eyes were filling with tears. ‘Last night, I thought I was going to die. I thought I would never again have the chance to prove that… we built something extraordinary and it will forever entwine us in more ways than we can conceive. I thought I would never get the chance to tell you how beautiful you are, and how I never believed myself to be worthy of you.’

You let a tear fall down your cheek, not having the energy to wipe it away anymore, you never did these days.

‘You asked me once,’ Harold continued. ‘Why I always gave you options, why I always told you that saying no was okay… I didn’t lie to you, but I’m not sure I ever realised the whole truth. I was giving you the option to walk away. To find someone like Alec to be with, because I knew that the time I got with you was everything I’d always wanted. And nothing lasts forever, so if you decided it was over, I convinced myself that I would be okay with that. I think at one time, I may have even believed it enough that it could be true… but then you agreed to marry me, and everything changed.’

You couldn’t stop your tears flooding from your face, but Harold kept going.

‘When you said yes, I knew that no matter what happened, I would spend the rest of my life with you in one way or another. I knew that I’d set myself up for heartbreak, because the second you decided you wanted to leave, I wouldn’t be able to handle it.’

‘So, making me believe you were dead was the solution?’ You said through stuttered breath.

‘It was a unique situation,’ Harold knew that was the wrong way to say it. ‘I always thought you could do better. I thought if I left, you would move on and live out your dreams and find someone who could give you more than I could.’

You sniffed, shaking your head. ‘And what about now?’

‘Now?’ Harold repeated. ‘Now, I see the truth, which was that it wasn’t my choice.’ He took another tentative step towards you. ‘I forgot to give you the option to stay with me, to help me after the accident… to care for me. If I had, I might have felt relief much sooner in my life.’

You nodded. ‘I would have made you get surgery.’

‘I know.’ Harold gave a brief smile. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you. It seems such a small thing to say given how you feel, but it’s true. I understand if you blame me for what happened, and if you decide to remain upset with me… I will understand that as well, but you should know something.’ Harold took the last step towards you, his body heat touching your skin. ‘There is nothing in this world that will change the way I feel for you, and there is nothing anyone can do that will hurt me more than the pain of knowing I hurt you for a second time.’ You frowned, asking the question. ‘If I had died last night, there would be no way for you to tell if it was real or not. Given the way I know you still feel about me, you may have believed it to be another fake and gone looking for me, which would have resulted in one of two things happening: either you would fail and realise you were chasing a ghost, or you would simply continue on. Lingering.’ Harold’s face contorted with pain once more. ‘I can’t do that to you again.’

You just stood crying in front of Harold, not knowing why you couldn’t stop and hoping he could take away the pain.

‘You’re right.’ You whispered, your breathing still heavy. ‘I do blame you for what happened.’ Harold didn’t seem anymore hurt or surprised. ‘But I am trying so hard not to, because I know the truth as well. None of this is your fault alone. We both made the machine what it is, and it saves a lot of people. It does it’s job and we couldn’t ask for more than that. It’s one of the reasons I’m so glad we put it out of reach.’ It was Harold’s turn to frown, making your mouth flicker a smile. ‘If I could get access to the machine, I would have done so much damage. I would have not only found you, but I would have gone looking for the people who killed Nathan.’ Harold kept his frown, not sure whether to believe you. ‘I’d never felt anger like it, and I don’t know what I would have done if I found the ones responsible.’

Harold instinctively lifted his hand to wipe your cheeks and for a fraction of a second you froze. You weren’t ready to be touched just yet. And Harold noticed.

‘I’m sorry.’ He breathed, slowly taking his hand away.

‘It’s okay.’ You shook your head. ‘You didn’t do that to me.’

‘No, but I did other things that were just as bad.’ Harold admitted.

You both stayed quiet for a while, just watching each other, awkwardly figuring out whether you should move away, but nothing seemed to be the right choice.

‘I miss waking up next to you.’ Harold suddenly said. ‘I miss making you laugh.’ He swallowed thickly. ‘Thank you for coming, for being with me a while. I know it must have been hard for you.’

You gave a brief smile. ‘That’s the thing. I actually found it the easiest thing I’ve done in a long time.’ There was a flicker of hope that drifted over Harold’s face, but you didn’t want him to hold too tightly to it. ‘I don’t know whether that was to do with yours or my needs, Harold. I may have been selfish.’

‘You know I never minded that.’ He said like instinct. ‘I always wanted you to have exactly what you wanted and never feel bad about asking for it.’

You nodded, another smile emerging on your face. ‘Yeah, and there was a lot I wanted from you. I wonder now if I didn’t give enough back.’

Harold shook his head to stop your train of thought. ‘Just being with me and being happy was all I ever asked for from you. That was more than enough for me.’ He could still see the doubt in your eyes. ‘That picture of us in your office, I remember that night vividly. It was a charity event that Nathan invited us to, it was the last time you wore that dress that you weren’t sure about.’

You started to remember what he was talking about. ‘It wasn’t that I wasn’t sure about it, it was just that I didn’t feel like myself at those things and the dress was… revealing.’

You both chuckled, quietly. ‘It was.’ Harold nodded. ‘But, for me, it was a blessing to know that everyone who looked at you in that dress might have been able to see a fraction of your beauty the way I see it. To understand just how important you are to the world and how lucky I was to be standing with you.’

Four years ago.

‘Are you sure the dress is still fine?’ You asked, adjusting your green dress in the hotel room mirror so that it covered your chest appropriately. ‘I feel like I might be wearing it in a little too much.’

Harold sighed coming up behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist as he spoke low against your neck. ‘You’re beautiful, the dress has nothing to do with it, but feel free to take it off.’

He made you giggle, before kissing below your ear and grabbing his jacket. Harold always had a way to make you smile when you felt insecure about yourself, or when you needed a distraction from what was going on around you. He was always there and you hoped he would be for a long time to come.

You went down to the function where Nathan was waiting to greet you. He pecked your cheek and shook Harold’s hand, you even danced together at one point, Harold watching on and feeling the familiar pang of jealousy that it wasn’t him holding you.

He sat at the table in the corner and just watched as you laughed at something Nathan said. Harold couldn’t express how much he adored you and Nathan getting along, he was worried you wouldn’t and at that point he wouldn’t have known what to do.

Harold finally got the chance to dance with you, but before you could get onto the dancefloor, Nathan insisted on a photo. Harold was nervous, he wasn’t one for public photos, but you seemed okay with it.

‘Just relax.’ You chuckled, your hand going to his chest, keeping his focus on you.

Harold’s hand immediately went around your waist, the other sliding into his trouser pocket and he was suddenly captivated by your expression. It was the same one that told him you loved every part of who he was, no matter what that was. The one that told him you only ever wanted to kiss him for the rest of your life.

Barely six months into your relationship and all Harold could do was think how you were the one for him. No questions.

‘Go dance.’ Nathan cheered, neither of you noticing that he’d even taken the picture, but Harold was grateful for the relief.

You swayed together on the dance floor, Harold couldn’t get enough of feeling your body close, feeling your soft hand placed in his, whispering low and making you giggle at small things that neither of you would ever remember.

‘Thank you for this, Harold.’ You said, tears in the corners of your eyes from laughing so much.

‘You’re welcome, but the night isn’t over yet.’ He flirted.

It made you laugh again, but you shook your head. ‘I don’t just mean tonight, I mean the last few months, taking me to events and… making me happy.’

It warmed Harold’s whole being to hear you say it. ‘It’s been a privilege.’ Harold told you. ‘Truly.’

You stayed dancing together for a little while longer, but when the opportunity arose, Harold suggested you go somewhere more private, like your hotel room.

‘Tell me what you want.’ You whispered against Harold’s lips as you entered the room, your arms around his shoulders, his around your waist.

‘To see you smile, hear you laugh.’ Harold smiled.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ You hummed, feeling his body pressing a little more into you.

‘I know what you meant.’ Harold pressed a soft kiss to your lips. ‘The answer is the same either way. I just want you to smile.’

Harold was an enigma, one you were sure would always hold some mystery for you, you were never really sure if he meant what he said or just giving you what he thought you wanted.

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my-head-is-an-animal · 1 year

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Happy Wednesday

Chapter 16

It had been weeks of therapy and physio, you were getting used to your body again. You’d been through all this before, but this time, you didn’t have Harold to help you through. The first time you’d been at a club and had your drink spiked, it wasn’t your usual scene, but you made an exception, and the result was catastrophic.

Harold was kind to you, you knew he noticed, but he never pressed the subject, he just kept his distance and allowed you to process things on your own. This time it was different, you were on your own and you really didn’t want to be.

A message had come through to your phone, from Harold, asking whether you had any pull to retrieve a Cuban taxi driver’s family. He sent you the details and the following week they were arriving in New York.

Harold sent a thank you text, but you would have preferred a phone call. Then it was a text to help break into bank security to cover up an escape, then it was to help get John out of jail. The one that had you phoning him was when he asked you to look at some code he’d found at a high school.

‘Is this how we’re going to communicate now?’ You asked, sitting back in your office chair and gazing out at the morning washing over the city. ‘Mysterious text messages asking for favours?’

‘I would have called to ask how you’re doing, but I imagined you would rather not talk to me directly just yet.’ You could hear the sounds of him walking through a crowd. ‘I was giving you the space you needed.’ You listened to him stopping. ‘Was that the wrong thing to do?’

You breathed in deeply. ‘What do you need, Harold?’

‘I need help understanding the code,’ Harold kept walking. ‘And the student, I’m having trouble communicating with him.’

‘You want me to come down there? Make contact?’ You asked, leaning forward, about ready to get up and leave your office.

‘No, it’s okay.’ Harold assured you. ‘I can handle things on this end, just… if you could keep an eye out and work on that code. I’d be grateful.’

You agreed and Harold sent you all the information he had and it only took you an afternoon to realise what was going on.

You raced to the train station where Harold met with you.

‘You’re sure about this?’ He asked, panting.

‘I’m certain,’ you said, catching your breath. ‘Caleb can’t live with the guilt of what happened to his brother, he thinks the world will be better off without him in it; he will try and end his life tonight. Harold, we need to find him.’

Harold felt a whip in his chest, he wondered if you were speaking from experience. You made your way into the station and sure enough Caleb was sitting there, waiting for a train.

‘Go and talk to him.’ You said, quietly.

‘It might be more prudent for you to talk to him,’ Harold countered. ‘You have more experience of this.’

You just looked at him, hating that he noticed. ‘Believe me, Harold, you’ll get through to him.’

Harold saw something in your face that made him decide you were right. He went over and sat with Caleb, trying to find the right words to give a broken seventeen year old boy.

He told him how the world didn’t have any extra pieces, it was better with him in it, the people who loved him were better with him in it.

‘Take it from someone who thought leaving was better for everyone,’ Harold couldn’t help his gaze flickering towards you. ‘And then found out otherwise.’

Caleb turned to see you standing there next to Fusco, your long grey coat wrapped around your body, your soft bare legs slotting into the heels you wore for work and your hair framing your face perfectly. You were always stunning to Harold.

‘That’s Evelyn Brooke. You left her?’ Caleb frowned.

Harold nodded. ‘The worst mistake I ever made.’

‘No offence, Mr Swift, but why should I take advice from a guy who let someone like that go?’

Harold smiled, gently. ‘Because she’s still here. She’s happier now that we’re… well, we’re not back together, but she’s happier, even if she doesn’t quite realise it yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The reason she fell in love with me, she always maintained, was because I could look at her face and know exactly what she was thinking, or what she needed.’ Harold looked back at the train tracks. ‘People just want to be loved and cared for, you and I have the capability of identifying those people who need it most and provide that.’ Harold turned to Caleb. ‘Your mother won’t get better with money, just like Evelyn didn’t fall in love with me for my money. In fact, without it, I believe that Evelyn and your mother would love us even more. But we need to give them that chance to do so.’

Caleb sat for a moment and Harold wondered if he’d gotten through to him. He glanced up at you and saw the faintest smile on your face, he’d succeeded in doing what you wanted from him. The train came and went and Caleb was still alive. It was as much a relief to you as it was to him.

Fusco took Caleb home and dealt with Lorenzo. Harold walked you to your car, hoping for a few more moments with you.

‘No security with you?’ He asked, but you just smiled.

‘They’re around.’ You said, cryptically.

‘That’s good to hear.’ Harold hated that you’d parked so close. ‘Thank you for helping with this. While John is in Rykers, taking care of the numbers has proven difficult on my own.’

‘Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.’

Harold nodded. ‘Should I call next time?’

You sighed and looked up the street for a distraction. ‘You know, Harold, I’m still finding it difficult. My therapist keeps telling me it’s just a matter of time, but I’m still not sure.’

He hated to hear it, but he couldn’t blame you. ‘I understand.’ He swallowed. ‘It’s good that you’re seeing a therapist, is it helping?’

You frowned. ‘You don’t know? You haven’t tapped my phone to listen in?’

Harold frowned as well. ‘That would be an invasion of your privacy. I thought what you needed was space.’

‘It is, I just…’ You didn’t have to finish the sentence.

‘You thought I’d do it anyway.’ Harold said, annoyed, but trying not to be. ‘You don’t trust me anymore.’

‘I don’t trust anyone, you know that.’ You countered.

‘Yes, but…’ Harold didn’t want to finish his sentence. ‘Just tell me how to fix this. ‘

‘I told you.’ You were at risk of breaking. ‘Just give me space, let me process this.’

Harold didn’t have a response, instead, he just let you get into your car and leave. You’d never argued like that before, sometimes you disagreed, mostly about money, but never about trust. Harold had prided himself on you always trusting him, but it seemed that was no longer the case, and he had no idea what he had in reserve.

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