I won't bore you all with my rambling about the season finale because surely all of you are just like me, (Oh God, I can't wait!) So let's go straight to the fic; this was supposed to be just a little drabble, but as with pretty much anything PoI-related, it just spread out. So, enjoy!
Please, remember that while the amazing PJTL156 read through it, there could remain some mistakes, all my own of course, so feel free to point them out, I would really appreciate :)
I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.
OoOoO
Title: Small Glow in the Dark.
Finch regained consciousness slowly, carefully blinking his eyes open.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room and be able to focus on his surroundings. Even then, it took his hazy mind a moment longer to put the pieces together and understand why he was in such place. He tensed, and he felt a lump settle in his throat.
Caroline Turing deceiving them. The same woman they tried to protect killing Alicia Corwin right before his eyes. Every detail impressed on his memory.
He remembered the kidnapping, and all those blurry memories of waking up in this same room before, of her asking questions he couldn't remember clearly, and the flash of the same twisted smile on her face every time she stuck a needle in his arm.
"Let's try again later, Harold."
Finch squeezed his eyes shut, curling his tied hands into fists. Everything was real. Everything.
Eyes still closed, Finch pressed his lips together to hold back a groan. The pain in his neck and leg was slowly starting to make itself known as the effect of whatever drugs she was giving him wore off. The pain would only get worse when the drugs left his system totally, that much he knew.
Finch drew a deep breath, trying to oblige his mind to focus. Between the drugs and the lack of any time indicator, he had no idea how much time had passed. How long he had been here, wherever here was.
The room he was in was small, with no windows and dark walls, and aside from the chair he was in and the lonely bulb hanging over him, keeping the place from falling into total darkness, the room was empty. The door of the room was behind him, arranged perfectly so he could hear Root arrive, but was unable to see her until she was right in front of him, or at least beside him.
If he were not in this predicament, he would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, and the fact it looked like a room taken from a bad action film. As it was, it only made him feel dread.
One thing he had learned from the woman who had risked her life to 'drag him out' was that she was smart, extremely meticulous and resourceful. Every step and every decision she made, were precise. Every little thing, every detail in the room, or the way she acted with him, everything, it was all part of Root's plan; her plan to break him.
Finch swallowed hard. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, it would- could work, given enough time.
He was far from being a naïve man, and at this point in his life, he wasn't about to start lying to himself. Never had been. He was well aware of his physical shortcomings. He knew he wasn't a strong man; he wasn't anything like Mr. Reese, so it surely wouldn't take her too long to break him, Physically, at least, but that didn't mean he was going to let her break him further. He couldn't. That much he owed Nathan, who died protecting him and the Machine.
Wetting suddenly dry lips, Finch shook himself out of his thoughts. It was pointless to start worrying about it now when he was sure Root would give him a generous amount of time to do so if the time did come. When the time comes whispered a voice inside his head, but he decided to ignore it too, at least for now.
Predictably, his thoughts drifted to his employ- partner, Mr. Reese. Finch's lip twitched upward slightly. Thanks to all the information he gathered about the former CIA agent-but mainly due to all the time he spent with him-Finch did not have the slightest doubt that Mr. Reese was looking for him.
Due to loyalty and perhaps a misplaced sense of guilt on his part-for leaving him vulnerable and at Turing's mercy (even if they hadn't known she was dangerous at the time)-Finch knew Mr. Reese wouldn't stop looking, digging until he found them.
The knowledge that there was someone looking; someone who cared enough and was without exaggeration capable of countless illicit activities to get him back was overwhelming and somewhat confusing, but it also gave him a reason to fight; to stay strong. It also made him realize he couldn't simply sit here, waiting to be rescued.
He may not have Mr. Reese's frankly admirable strength and skills, but he was not helpless either.
Taking a deep breath and holding it, Finch straightened his posture as best as he could, holding back a gasp as a sharp pain shot up his neck. He could felt tears forming in his eyes, but he was not going to let that stop him. He couldn't.
He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to take deep breaths. He attempted to push the pain away and instead tried to focus on more pleasing memories; memories of his time with Grace, of late night talks with Nathan. The priceless moments of acting as 'Uncle Harold' with Will, and even memories of Mr. Reese, and all the people they had helped in so little time. With those thoughts in his mind, Finch started fighting.
Feeling a tear rolling down his cheek, Finch struggled with the rope tied around his wrists. It was tight, and as soon as the rope brushed against his skin he felt a burning pain in both wrists. Within just a few seconds he could feel the dampness of blood as it started pouring slowly, the skin there already damaged.
He kept doing it even though the rope hadn't given an inch, but hearing a noise behind him, the noise of the door lock being opened, Finch froze, his hands going completely still behind his back. He held his breath, listening to the sound of heels getting closer.
"I thought I told you to stop struggling with the ropes, Harry." Root's voice was soft, almost friendly. Almost. "You're going to hurt yourself and we don't want that, do we? At least not yet, and not your hands. They're important to our goal here, remember?"
Finch tensed, feeling Root's hands touching, caressing his hands. He felt helpless, unable to do anything to stop her.
"I'm going to clean them one more time, but this is the last time I do it." Root walked the few remaining steps, stopping in front of Finch. She crouched down gracefully, looking Finch straight in the eye. That twisted smile was back on her face. "They're important Harold, but not essential. Nothing is. So, I could give you a little something so you can't move them again, or even better, just cut them off."
Finch's eyes widened, his lower lip trembling slightly before he pressed his lips together, making Root's smile turn into a grimace of sympathy.
"I don't want to Harry, but I will if I have to. It's your choice."
Root looked at Finch with deep, intense eyes, her head tilted. Without warning, she reached out and brushed Finch's tear with her thumb, making Finch shiver at the touch and uselessly try to get away from her.
With a twitch of her lips, Root stood up. "I'll go get the supplies and a little assistance, just in case you try something clever. Then, we're going to have another little chat."
With a wink she turned away, leaving a stunned and frightened Finch behind as the sound of her heels echoed inside the small room.
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A/N: Thanks to everyone who read it. I hope you all have enjoyed, and as always feedback is appreciated :D