The hardest part about working nights is that right around 3 a.m., your brain starts making up ALL kinds of scenarios to try and stay conscious. I am NOT going to tell you where my brain led me last night, but you'll be finding out soon enough. That said, once again while in the middle of a story, my brain decided to fill in the gaps. If you are reading "I'd Come For You", you probably know it's the first part of an arc with "Share My Love" and "New York" holding up the middle. I hope that you don't mind me jumping ahead - again - and filling in the empty spaces. Trust me, this won't take away from my current.
I don't own Person of Interest. Wish I did just so I could watch KC's facial expressions during Fusco's dialogue.
Song prompt: "Get Me To The Church On Time" from "My Fair Lady".
Get Me To The Church On Time
John Reese was having one of those days - although if he were to look at it from an objective point of view it wasn't all that bad. He had saved the number, handicapped the perps, and saved the day. He was a hero in every sense of the word…until he looked at the two flat tires on the car. And the satisfaction he felt went out the window.
Yeah, he thought to himself as he looked around at the isolated are in the middle of nowhere, he wasn't a hero; he was a dead man.
Kicking the tire in frustration, he cursed under his breath. He should have stayed home and gotten ready for his big day and let Shaw take care of the bad guys. But he wanted to do one more good deed before leaving Manhattan for two weeks. What was it Joss had once told him…oh, yeah, that the city could survive without him.
He should have listened.
Angrily, he kicked the tire again.
Joss was going to kill him. There was no way he was going to make an excuse and talk himself out of this one. And he was sure the women would help her dispose of his corpse. He was basically a dead man walking. Sitting on the hood of the car, he pulled the phone out of his coat pocket and looked at it. Dead. Like him. He wondered if showing the broken screen where the bullet was stopped would grant him a reprieve.
He sighed. He should have at least thrown his tux in the trunk; at least then he would look good in the casket.
"Come on, Finch," he muttered. "Find me before Joss does."
He looked at the horizon and saw that the sun was setting. Just like his second shot at happiness. Once he realized that Joss Carter was the woman he had waited his entire life for, he moved heaven and hell to prove that he was worthy of her. It took some work and bending over backwards, but when he heard her say yes to his proposal, he knew that it had all been worth it.
Reese closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders in defeat. There was no way the women were going to make it painless - especially when he remembered the cat-that-ate-the-canary look Zoe gave when she showed off her taser. Shaw would start with the fingernails.
He looked at his watch again. "Hurry up, Finch," he growled.
The sound of a car approaching interrupted his thoughts. He shadowed his eyes as he turned toward the west. Only one person drove like a bat out of hell: Fusco.
Reese tried to hide the smile as the detective climbed out of the sedan and walked toward him.
"There you are," Fusco greeted as though he was having a casual chat and not rescuing the man he secretly revered. "Who would have thought that I would have to come and rescue you."
"It's good to see you too, Lionel."
Fusco assessed the damage. "Are you okay?" His trained eye caught the bullet hole in Reese's suit jacket.
Reese held up his phone. "I got lucky."
"So far. The women are getting anxious because you haven't shown up."
Reese nodded toward the car and forced what he hoped was a cheery smile. "I was a little incapacitated."
"If you don't want to get married, all you had to do was say so," Fusco replied tongue in cheek. "I get that you might have cold feet, but you didn't have to go to such drastic measures."
"Very funny."
"What can I say? I'm a funny guy."
"Why couldn't Shaw have found me?" Reese asked under his breath.
"Because she wants to do Chinese Water Torture on you. I figured I was the lesser of two evils." Fusco walked to the back of the sedan and popped the trunk. "Come here."
Warily, and not sure what to expect, Reese stepped over to where his friend stood. "What is that?" He nodded toward the clothes wrapped in plastic and lying on the bottom of the trunk.
"Your tuxedo, wise guy. I stopped by the cleaners on my way out here. I figure you can get dressed and I can high-tail it to the church in time."
"For what?"
"It depends. If you don't get dressed, you definitely won't be saying your vows. Trust me. I've been in your shoes." Fusco leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "It's their day, and they want you there. Or else."
"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
Fusco shrugged and pretended to give the question the consideration it deserved.. "All things considered? No." He thrust the plastic wrapped clothing toward Reese. "Hurry."
"Here?"
"Yes. I'll turn around - if it makes you comfortable." Fusco turned his back. "You know, for what I just did, I deserve to be your best man."
"You aren't?" Reese hurriedly stepped out of his torn slacks and pulled on the trousers careful to avoid the dusty ground.
"I should drive slow and hit every red light. It would serve you right."
"How about…" Reese searched his brain for anything to placate the detective during this moment of crisis, "…uh, godfather?"
Fusco turned around. A look of shock was on his face. "Godfather?! You mean you are seriously considering bringing a 'mini-me' into this world?"
Reese tucked the crisp white shirt into his slacks and pulled up the fly. "It could be a girl," he offered with a smile.
"Heh. At least your child will have half of Carter's genes, so they should be grounded. Still…" He didn't want to entertain the thought of another tall, dark and dangerous replica- albeit a tiny replica - roaming Manhattan. "You're not marrying Carter because she's pregnant, are you? Because if you are…."
"Joss isn't pregnant," Reese assured his friend. "And that isn't the reason I'm marrying her."
"What is your reason, wise ass?"
"You'll find out at the ceremony." Reese pulled on the jacket. "How do I look?" he asked and tried to get a glimpse of himself in the car window. With nervous hands, he tried to smooth down his hair.
"Your tie sucks. Come here." Two minutes later Fusco tugged the bow in place. "There. At least you look good…no matter the outcome." He looked at his watch. "Speaking of which…if we don't hurry, it's going to be your funeral!" he ordered. Reese threw the ruined suit in the trunk and slammed the lid.
Fusco started the engine, his hand hesitated on the gear shift until Reese was inside and the door closed. "Ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be," Reese conceded. Under his breath, he sang, "Get me to the church on time". Fusco winced.
"Well, at least I know she isn't marrying you for your ability to carry a tune," the detective ribbed good-naturedly. "Must be your looks."
"We have less than forty-five minutes to get from here to the church, Lionel."
Fusco flipped the switch that turned on the blue flashing lights. "I once made it from here to Manhattan in under thirty minutes," he bragged. He turned to look at the man he considered his best friend and gave a huge grin. "Buckle up." Then he threw the sedan into DRIVE and hit the gas.
