Sooner

by NeverQuiteFinished

"He had felt like something disposable, something replaceable, and here he was, being told otherwise, being told he mattered."

-Note- Written for amayakumiko at tumblr for the POI Irrelevant Gift Exchange.

Sooner

"Merry Christmas, detective."

Fusco sighed. He was standing in line out in the freezing cold of a New York winter morning. It was one of those rare days when he didn't have to work, and as much as he would have wanted to stay in bed with a hot drink, his coffee maker was busted. It was the promise of a hot cup of coffee and a nice cold hot dog that had him up in the cold morning, waiting in line at a renowned food truck for his breakfast. He mused on how he should have just skipped the food, because the last thing he needed now was for John Reese to ruin his morning by sneaking up on him before he had had any.

He acknowledged the Bane of his existence with a curt nod but didn't turn around as he addressed him.

"Yeah, and a happy new year," he said, the usual sarcasm that laced his voice whenever he spoke to Reese ever-present.

"Little cold to be standing out in line for a drink don't you think, Lionel?" Reese spoke the words in a way that Fusco knew he especially reserved to get under his skin. "I might have to give you a coffee maker for your Christmas bonus."

Fusco would have laughed if he wasn't so annoyed. He turned around at last and looked at the man that always seemed to come from the shadows. Clad in his usual suit, he wore a long jacket and a look of amusement on his face. Fusco only had to raise his eyebrow in question.

"I need you to keep an eye on this woman," Reese said, putting his jokes aside and adopting his business matter. He presented Fusco a picture of a beautiful lady making her way through uptown New York, continuing to talk as Fusco took it. "Her name's Amaya Kumiko. We don't know what, but she will be involved in something soon."

"Yeah, just in time for Christmas." Fusco said, irritation dripping from his words.

"Why, detective, you should know by now, crime doesn't take a holiday."

Fusco had to fight the urge to roll his eyes like a school girl. He looked at the picture again and back to Reese. "You and Four Eyes can't handle it?" He asked, knowing the answer before it came.

"Got somewhere to be, Lionel?" Reese arched an eyebrow and used his "are-you-sure-you-want-to-go-there" tone.

Fusco huffed out a sigh and moved ahead in line. "I promised my kid I'd take him sleddin' today," he admitted, dropping his gaze and focusing on walking forward. He could feel the tall man walking behind him, but he didn't turn around again. It was a long while before anything else was said and Fusco was half way certain Reese had gone when he heard the man speak again.

"I can take it from here." Reese said, and Fusco didn't know if he was serious or just making another joke.

"Wha—" he was going to ask what he meant by that but was cut short when he felt a strong arm reach around him and take the picture he was holding close to his chest.

"Have a good day with your kid, detective." Reese said, and without another look he turned around and walked away, melting into the crowd of people, and it wasn't long before Fusco lost him.

"Are you sure that was wise, Mr. Reese?"

John felt the buzz in his ear before he heard Finch speak. The boss sounded more worried than irritated at the fact that Reese had chosen to spare Fusco and go at this case alone, and Reese took that as a good sign.

"I can tail her on my own. Have a little faith, Finch."

"It is not a question of faith Mr. Reese, I know you are quite capable of keeping tabs on Miss Kumiko on your own. I simply wonder if giving the detective the day off was a good idea. We may need him before this is all over."

"Then we'll contact him if we need him."

Fusco's clothes were drenched and he was suffering from a cold induced coughing fit. The sledding affair had failed miserably. He hadn't foreseen that half of New York's parents would be attempting the same feat with their kids, and the park was packed. There were kids and adults alike running around with sleds and trying to race each other. It hadn't helped that Lee insisted on finding the tallest slope in the park, and Fusco had to huff and puff up the precarious slippery turf to only huff and puff back down after Lee had slid down it.

It was exhausting, and Fusco halfway wished he had taken the job with Reese. He almost called the whole thing off and offered to take his kid to an arcade instead, but the smile on Lee's face made it worth it. Almost.

He was just beginning to get used to the cold sweat running down his neck, when he felt an even colder something hit him in the back of the head. The yelp that came out of his mouth was enough to send Lee into a fit of laughter that was so contagious, Fusco couldn't help but laugh too. He stopped laughing long enough to gather up some snow and throw it at his little rascal, hitting him straight in the chest.

"Dad! Not fair!" Lee shouted and scrambled to make snowballs, throwing one and missing Fusco by a foot. In turn, Lionel threw his second ball and landed it on Lee's shoulder.

"Not bad for your old man, huh?" Fusco smiled and bent over to get more snow when his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He reached for it and was caught off guard when Lee's snowball hit him on the side of his face. He wiped the snow away looked at his phone. The caller ID said unknown but Fusco knew exactly who it was that was calling him. "Just a second there, bud." He called to his son, and at seeing the understanding nod Lee gave him, he clicked the screen to answer.

"What happened to having a good day with my kid?" the sarcasm he used was minimal due to the smile that still tugged at the corners of his mouth, but this small occurrence that rarely graced his features was lost the instant he heard the voice on the other end.

"Sorry to bother you, Lionel, but I need you." Reese's voice was strained and he sounded out of breath.

"Wonderboy?" Fusco was at a loss for words. He had never heard the man in the suit sound defeated. "Where are you?"

Reese proceeded to give him an address of what Fusco knew to be a very dodgy part of town, and the line disconnected soon after. With a million apologies and promises to make it up to him, Fusco left his son at the park, thankful that they had picked one within walking distance from his ex's house. He headed to where Reese was, running a good number of red lights in the process.

When he was almost there, his phone buzzed again and he hoped it was Reese calling to tell him it was all okay and the business with the Kumiko woman had gone smoothly after all. But when he answered he didn't hear the familiar silky voice he so longed to hear at the time, but a much more urgent sounding one.

"I trust you're doing your best to hurry, detective?"

"I'm doin' what I can." Fusco said the words as he ran yet another red light. "What happened?"

Mr. Good News then filled him in on the Kumiko case and how it had gone terribly wrong. It appeared that the woman named Amaya Kumiko was actually a world renowned singer that was in town for a very luxurious shopping trip. She was targeted for a kidnap attempt by some very ambitious mob group, one of which was small in comparison to the ones they had encountered in the past.

"Mr. Reese felt it would be a simple "get in, get out" job and decided to tackle the group on his own. Needless to say I was completely against the idea but he went in anyway. I haven't heard from him since he called you detective and I'm afraid his phone has been damaged." Finch's voice was laced with worry and Fusco got yet another glimpse at the work dynamic between the two men that saved people from trouble. It seemed as though they were just as keen to save each other as they were on saving everybody else.

"I think he has been outmatched." Fusco could hear the fear in Finch's words this time and it made his stomach turn.

"Have you called Carter?"

"She is also on her way, but you are closer. Please, Lionel, hurry."

The call was disconnected and Fusco barely had time to register the use of his first name by the other man. He drove on, silently praying that Reese was okay.

"Stay with me, John!"

It had become a habit now for Fusco to run red lights. He felt like he had to. Getting Reese to safety was top priority, and he would deal with the tickets later.

He had found the man in the suit outside of a rundown bodega, hunched down and bleeding in the snow. He had gotten himself shot in the leg and shoulder, and walking had become difficult for him.

"At least I took down the bad guys." He had said, a weak smile taking place of the grimace he was sporting. Fusco placed his arm around him and heaved his weight, half carrying the injured man to his car. "What took you so long?"

"I was fixin' my makeup." Fusco was never very good at soothing people when they got hurt, and he always favored comedy in hard situations. He was relieved when Reese laughed, more of a shaky breath than a laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"You didn't do… a very good job, Lionel." His voice was weaker, he had lost too much blood.

"Yeah, yeah, save your strength. You can make fun of me later."

When he had gotten to the driver's seat in his car, his phone buzzed again and he heard a relieved Finch giving him directions on what to do next and where to take his injured partner.

And now he was on his way to the place Finch had called "The Library", and Reese was half conscious in the back seat of his car.

"What the hell happened? Where is he?" Carter had a special gift where she managed to sound both pissed beyond hell and worried about you at the same time. It was rare for Fusco to be at the end of such rants, they were usually reserved for Wonderboy, but it had fallen onto him to catch her up on the day's events.

"I get a call from Finch saying John needs me at this address and I get here and find over ten dropped bodies and no sign of him. You best tell me what the hell went down in this place."

Fusco did his best to tell her about Amaya Kumiko's would-be kidnappers and how Reese had gone at the job all alone. He cringed when he heard her gasp at the mention of him being shot, but quickly revealed that Finch was now patching him up in a back room of their headquarters. Carter was glad to know that after the last time Reese had gotten shot, Finch felt it necessary to learn basic gun treating skills and he now kept a room where they might "fix" any minor injuries. Fusco himself didn't feel like two gunshot wounds where the victim had lost a lot of blood were considered minor, but Finch reassured him that he would have Reese back up and better in no time.

He reminded Carter to keep Reese's name out of the report for the bodega mob bodies and with a final annoyed comment (something along the lines of "don't tell me how to do my job") she hung up the phone and left Fusco alone in the library to worry.

He started to go down the only path he deemed suitable and began to blame himself. None of this would've happened if I had just gone with him to the bodega in the first place. Michel would've understood. I shouldn't have left him alone. I should've hurried, driven faster. If only I would've gotten there sooner. If only I would've gotten there sooner. If only I would've gotten there sooner.

"Detective."

His thoughts were interrupted when Finch addressed him. He was standing in the doorway, their guard dog at his side.

"Is he…"'

"He's fine, detective. Resting now."

Fusco let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. The sudden thought of John dying came to him and he realized he wouldn't know how to react to that. He decided he better not think about it at the moment and he looked at Finch.

"Can I see him?"

Finch nodded and stepped aside. Fusco walked to the door and passed Bear, gently scratching him behind the ears before walking inside the room.

The sight that greeted him was not a friendly one. He thought that seeing the man bleeding in the snow was as bad as it got but he had been wrong. Reese lay in a bed, his shirt was gone and his pants were ripped to reveal his wound. His arm and leg were bandaged, and there was no color in his face. He looked as frail as a regular man after getting shot. Fusco didn't know exactly what he had expected to see. Perhaps he was hoping for the man he was so sure was invincible to be up and about, laughing about his injuries and playing them off as nothing more than a scratch. He had expected a snarky remark, a witty comment, not a broken man.

He walked to the foot of the bed and noticed that Reese's body was also covered in bruises and gashes. It had not only been the two gunshots, of course the man had gotten into fist fights, they were his trademark after all. Fusco felt more than stupid at not having realized sooner that it couldn't have just been the shots that had bested Reese, but the physical strain he had undergone as well. Carter had mentioned more than ten bodies, and it was suddenly a wonder to Fusco that this man was even alive at all.

"I should have gotten there sooner." Fusco found himself whispering these words at an unconscious Reese. He knew he wouldn't be heard, but he felt the outmost need to speak, and he couldn't stop himself from doing so.

"I don't always like you, you know? You are the biggest pain in my ass. You've blackmailed me, threatened me, you shot at me! Hell, sometimes I think you treat your dog better than you treat me. You don't always say 'thank you', not that I expect you to… you don't act like it's good to see me. I feel like you hate to even deal with me and you just do it when you have to. But then there are times… like this morning. Where you tell me things that make me feel as if, as if you care. I don't know why it even matters to me whether you do or don't but it just… it feels nice to know you do. Even if you don't, it feels nice to think that somehow you see me as more than just a puppet. I appreciate what you do. What you and Glasses do, and I'm happy to be a part of it. I feel like I'm finally doing something good. I respect you. And I care for you. I didn't think I did but there you go. I do. I left my kid at the park for you. Heh. I guess that earns me the title of 'father of the year' huh? You would've said something mean there, you're always saying something mean to me. I've grown to expect it, even like it a little bit. If a day goes by and you haven't called or texted with orders or demands, or some comment that's meant to get under my skin, well then that's filed under a boring day. You… you and Glasses, you're a part of my life now. An annoying part, but a part. I expect you there. I need you there. If you… if you die… I don't know what I'm gonna do. So don't, okay? And don't be an idiot and call me sooner next time, you hear?"

Fusco didn't notice when he had begun to cry, but he wiped the tears from his face and turned to leave the room. He found Finch there, looking at him with uncharacteristically kind eyes. Fusco wasn't sure how much of that confession the man had heard, but it seemed as though Finch understood that is wasn't something to be repeated, and Fusco nodded at him in silent thanks. He walked past him and headed to the library exit.

"Detective Fusco." Fusco stopped and turned. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem." He said, and petting Bear one last time, he walked out of the library.

Bear loved the snow. He ran in it, played in it, even fetched better in it. There was just something about a Dutch speaking Belgian Malinois that loved snow that made John Reese smile. He had recovered quite quickly from his wounds thanks to Harold's expert medical skills and, despite doctor's orders, he was now out and about, playing with Bear in the park.

When he had come to, he was informed that Amaya Kumiko had safely traveled back to her country and the only harm that came to her was a giant blow to her expense account. He was also informed, in a matter that rang with more urgency than that of their number, of the uproar he had caused with both detectives, and was instructed to call each of them and apologize for his behavior. He found the notion of being scolded like a child amusing, but he did as he was told.

Carter had been easy to assuage. After apologizing for the bodies he had dropped and reminding her that he had done so singlehandedly and suffered some wounds in the process, she turned to worried mother mode and scolded him as well at going at such a job alone and made him promise to never do it again, and to call either her or Fusco if ever he was going to be "astonishingly stupid" again.

It was talking to Fusco that proved to be the more difficult task. There was something in the back of Reese's mind, something that bothered him immensely, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He ended up calling the man, thanking him courtly, getting a short "Yeah, you're welcome" in return, and hanging up the phone.

There was something missing, but as Bear ran back to him with the ball in between his teeth, he pushed the thought aside and laughed.

"Tomorrow's Christmas." Fusco heard Carter from behind him. He was so busy with paperwork, as he had been the past few hours, that he didn't feel her sneak up.

"Yeah," he said absentmindedly.

"Got any plans?"

"Uh, no. The ex is taking my kid to her parents. Just me."

"Bummer."

Fusco looked up from his stack of papers to see Carter had settled comfortably at the edge of his desk. It wasn't like her to chatter during work, it wasn't like her to chatter at all, and this was very strange. It was almost as if she knew something he didn't. He raised his eyebrow before asking, "What have you got planned?"

"Just me and Taylor. Staying in, watching old movies. It's kinda of a family tradition."

"That's nice." He expected that to be the end of it, but Carter didn't move. She just looked at him and nodded slowly, a look in her eyes that he couldn't pinpoint.

"Yeah, it is," She said, and fixed Fusco with that queer look.

"Okay, what's gotten into you, Carter?" Fusco asked, and Carter looked as if she had been accused of murder.

"Nothin'! Just making conversation, geez." She shrugged her shoulders and walked back to her desk, and Fusco stared at her the whole way. He glared at her until she cracked. She smiled and opened her desk drawer, pulling out an envelope and walking back to Fusco's desk she handed it to him. "Just thought you might find something better to do on Christmas than be just you."

Fusco took the envelope and saw his name printed neatly in the back of it. He didn't miss Carter's smile as she walked away and left him to open the thing. Inside was an invitation of sorts,

Rusco Diner on 5th and Poimas Christmas day.

John

Fusco smiled and read the note again. He never knew Wonderboy to have handwriting like that, personally he expected pharmacist scribble, but this, this was a pleasant surprise. What was more surprising was the fact that he had gotten a note in the first place. He could've texted, called, even emailed, but instead he sent a note via Carter. There was something very odd about this, and for a second, it filled Fusco with dread at the thought of what it might be. He shook his head and decided it was nothing, that there was no way Reese had heard him, the man had been unconscious. Instead he focused on the problem at hand. Reese had not put down a meeting time.

Fusco arrived late, or early, he didn't really know. He walked into the diner and sat himself in a booth facing the door. The place was warm and inviting and it was a nice contrast to the biting cold of a New York Christmas day, and Fusco drank in the feeling before placing his order for an actual something to drink. He settled on coffee and was pleased to find that it was a very good brew, and he drank in silence, waiting for whatever was coming next.

He sat like that for a while, and just as he was finishing his second cup of jo, he heard a velvet smooth voice from behind him, and it made the hairs on his neck stand.

"I see you started without me, Lionel."

Fusco raised his eyebrow at the sound of his name. Aside from the awkward "thank you for saving my life" call, he and Reese hadn't spoken much, and to have him so close now, and not bleeding to death, was too much of a good feeling to take in all at once.

"Yeah, well, your note was vague on the time, so I got here a bit early." Reese was now sitting across from him and the smile on his lips was intoxicating. There was color on his face again, and he looked so full of life it made Fusco's heart swell.

"Sorry about that." The man said, not sounding sorry at all and not ceasing to smile for a second. It took Fusco some time but he soon found he was smiling as well. A fair couple of smiling saps they looked like.

The waitress came over and busied herself pouring Reese a cup of coffee and refilling Fusco's, and all the while the two men smiled at each other.

"Glad to see you up and walkin'." Fusco said after they were alone once more.

"You had some part in that, remember? Wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

Fusco blinked when he heard those words. It had been one thing for Reese to thank him the way he did over the phone, but to say something like that to him, face to face, it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach.

"I'm sure Mr. Librarian would have found a way to get you, and Carter was on her way."

"But you got to me first." Reese said, insisting. "If you hadn't gotten there when you did—"

"I should've gotten there sooner." Fusco couldn't help but interrupt. He had been thinking that same thought over and over, never letting up on his guilt. Even when he heard from Reese himself and knew the man was ok, he still couldn't help but put the blame solely on himself.

He wasn't looking at Reese anymore, his smile had faded and his hands were clasped around his coffee cup. The recently refilled cup radiated heat and it helped warm Fusco's numb hands. It wasn't until he felt another pair of hands circle around his own, a much larger and stronger pair, that he brought himself to look into saddened eyes.

"You got there just in time." Reese was speaking in a reassuring tone. He was doing it again, making Fusco feel like he cared. "Don't blame yourself, Lionel. You saved my life."

Fusco had to fight away the tears that were threatening to spill out of him. Maybe Reese had heard him, maybe he wasn't as unconscious as he originally thought when he had babbled like an idiot, but whatever the reason for these words were, Fusco was overwhelmed to be hearing them.

Reese's grip on him was relaxed and somehow familiar, like it belonged there, and at the risk of making a comfortable situation awkward, Fusco cleared his throat and reached for humor.

"Yeah, well, you didn't make it easy," he said, sarcasm in place. It made Reese chuckle, and the man pulled his hands back to rest on his own mug.

"Don't tell me you're going to start scolding me like Harold did?"

"Nah, Carter's the scolding one. She got me good when I told her about you."

Reese chuckled again. It was light and airy and it felt strange to be having such a normal conversation with a man that usually only spoke to him to manipulate or threaten him. The whole situation was strange to Fusco, but at the same time, he felt as if he'd been longing for a moment like this since he first started working for the strange pair of men that helped people.

"I didn't mean to worry her," Reese told him, and before he could stop himself, Fusco said the first thing that came to him.

"You worried me too."

He really hadn't meant to say that out loud, but the look of surprise he received made him glad he did.

"I didn't know you cared so much, Lionel." Reese picked up his cup and started drinking his coffee, turning to avoid looking Fusco in the eyes. This reaction made Fusco grin. It seemed that it was the detective's turn to get under Wonderboy's skin.

"Well what can I say, you're growin' on me."

Reese nearly choked on his drink. He put his cup down and wiped his face with a napkin, and all the while Fusco couldn't stop laughing.

"Very funny, Lionel," Reese said with a smile and Fusco stopped laughing long enough to wipe at tears. He looked at the smiling man sitting in front of him and he saw in that smile the hint of a normal guy. Not a rogue vigilante, or the Bane of his existence, or even a man that nearly gets killed protecting strangers, but a man that Fusco could be friends with, a man he could share a bond with, if only things were different. If only that smile never left.

They sat in comfortable silence for some time, still smiling like fools. It was Reese that spoke up first, but Fusco soon wished he hadn't.

"I guess that's why you asked me not to die?"

"Uh?" Fusco wasn't sure if he had heard correctly.

"At the library. You asked me not to die." Now he wished he hadn't. "Must've been because I'm "growing on you"."

Reese didn't show any signs of annoyance or anger. Fusco wasn't sure if he should trust this or not, but he didn't know of any way to react to this.

"Oh, you heard that?" He asked. He thought he sounded rather lame and he couldn't help but notice the heat that now rose to his cheeks.

"Not all of it." Reese was now avoiding his glance once more, and it almost looked to the detective like the other man was blushing just as much as he was. "I remembered later though."

"So much for being knocked out." Fusco said, attempting humor once more to lessen the now tense situation.

Reese didn't say anything in response. Instead he shifted slightly in his seat before looking at Fusco once more.

"It's why I asked you here. I wanted to talk to you about it."

"Oh." It was all Fusco could say.

He looked at Reese and noticed that the man was struggling with what to say next, but eventually the words came.

"I… care about you, Lionel." Fusco gaped. "I appreciate you."

"Did Glasses put you up to this?" Fusco was genuinely curious as to why this was being said.

"No. Listen." Reese looked determined to get something off his chest, and Fusco shut up and gave the man his full attention.

"You are an asset, Lionel that much is true. But you're an invaluable one. You help us in ways that only you could and we need you. I need you. I wouldn't know what to do if you… if you weren't around."

Now there was no stopping the tears from falling. Reese reached over and placed a hand on Fusco's one more time and it was all Lionel could do to keep from crying harder. He had thought that all this time he meant nothing to the Man in the Suit. He had felt like something disposable, something replaceable, and here he was, being told otherwise, being told he mattered.

"I didn't know you were such a softie, detective."

Fusco chuckled in between tears. Now Reese wanted some comedic relief, and Fusco couldn't be more grateful. He sniffled and moved his hand so he was now holding Reese's, and the other man didn't pull away. They held hands and Fusco looked into Reese's eyes, seeing something akin to affection in them, and it made him happier than he had been in years.

Detective Lionel Fusco had never been one to cry, yet there was something about this man, something that took place deep inside of him, that turned him into a weeping baby if things went outside the norm of sarcastic comments and mislaid threats. It had been this confession of sorts that now had him believing that there was more to this double agent job, more to this Man in a Suit that was originally thought. It was these words, and the acts that led to them, that had Lionel Fusco wanting more.

He laughed, never taking his eyes form the man sitting before him, holding his hand.

"You know," he said, "You should've said that sooner."