Author's notes: This story takes place sometime after 3x13 - "4C" and is a companion piece to Lost In Translation, Not Just Another Walk In The Park, Truth And Consequences and Chilly Returns And Warm Welcomes. I suggest you read them first.

Acknowledgements: Again huge thanks to my amazing beta scully1138. All mistakes remaining are all my own.

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Finally things were starting to look up. The last couple of days had been draining - as was the norm in his chosen line of profession of working the Numbers - and John found himself actually looking forward to his evening off, to winding down and enjoying some time alone.

He wandered the streets for a while after he'd left the library, breathing in the cold winter air and letting his thoughts drift to exactly nowhere. How he wound up in front of The Coronet Hotel he wasn't sure, but its bar was as good a place as any to wind down and it was always a plus when you knew the manager ... and the owner.

Reese lowered himself into the dark leather of a booth at the back of the bar area, knowing that he'd easily blend in with the businessmen that were populating the place in droves already. It seemed that business was going well for Harold's hotel and John eyed the people at the bar tiredly. He shook his head at the pathetic sight of a more-than-slightly inebriated man in a wrinkled suit trying to hit on a woman so glaringly out of his league that it was easy to guess that all the man would achieve that night was paying for the woman's drink.

He ordered a drink and leaned back against the cool leather - just watching the people and allowing himself to feel a little content with having been able to save the life of another 'Irrelevant' person today. Things were slowly getting back to the crazy kind of normal from before he had left New York, but Reese was sure that it was only a matter of time before something or another would come up to throw them all another curve ball. However tonight was not the time to think about that.

The buzz from the smooth, amber liquid in the tumbler in his left hand helped to loosen even the last of his obstinately tight muscles and he pretty much became part of the cushioning. When exactly he'd pulled out his phone John didn't know, but he suddenly didn't feel like being alone anymore and without giving it another thought he placed the call.

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John was lazily twirling the tumbler holding a refill of the alcoholic beverage of his choice with both hands on the tabletop, watching the amber liquid slosh around within its crystal container. He'd been nursing his second drink for a while now, knowing that it was also going to be his last for the night. All he wanted was a nice, relaxing buzz - not the all mind-numbing experience of a drunken stupor.

He knew his companion had arrived even without having to look up when his olfactory senses picked up the minute traces of a familiar perfume. He glanced up from his glass and watched as the new arrival gracefully lowered herself into the leather cushion across the round table.

"John." She greeted him with a warm - yet wry - smile.

John returned the greeting with a small, lopsided smirk of his own. "Zoe."

Zoe Morgan sat back deeper into the cushion - making herself more comfortable - while Reese leaned forward to push the drink he'd already ordered for her across the table. Condensation had formed on the glass's cool surface and it left a wet trail across the table from where it had been sitting - waiting for her. Zoe accepted the glass with a smile while letting her eyes blatantly roam over the man across from her. Not in the predatory way the ghastly overdressed woman at the bar had been eyeballing John - and which he had pretended not to notice for the last twenty minutes. Zoe was clearly assessing him.

"It's been a while, John," she eventually stated. "How are you doing?"

There was no accusation in her voice - more like true and friendly concern - but Reese still felt the need to avert his eyes and to ponder over his drink. He knew exactly what she was asking him about, and was grateful for her not to have taken the direct approach.

John let go of the glass. He straightened his hunched over posture to allow her an unobstructed view of his face to make sure she knew that he meant what he was about to say, and cleared his throat. "Better."

Zoe accepted his answer with a nod. John knew that with her he didn't have to elaborate. That's what he had always liked about Zoe Morgan and why he enjoyed her company so much. She was straightforward and - more importantly - she didn't want to 'fix' him.

"I'm glad you called."

John smiled and replied softly. "I'm glad you came." He raised his glass and Zoe followed suit with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. John's smile broadened. He had certainly not planned on his evening to go that way, but maybe it was indeed a good thing he ended up in front of The Coronet ... and his easy access to its penthouse suite ...

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They took their time finishing their drinks - just enjoying each other's company and catching up more or less truthfully. Zoe did most of the talking, which John didn't mind - he never had been much of a talker anyway. Sometime during their easy conversation the gap on the circular bench between himself and Zoe had considerably shortened as they both had scooted closer together.

Reese had his right arm on the backrest behind Zoe, with their heads being close enough so that he could actually smell the soft fragrance of her shampoo. He smirked at her recount of a very bizarre conversation she'd had with one of her customers while raising his tumbler to finish the last few swallows of his drink.

He practically choked on the last drops of his drink as he realized that the last person he'd ever imagined to meet in a hotel bar was standing right in front of their table. Clutching a purple purse that matched her garish choice of an outfit for the night, Bernadette was favoring him with a stare that easily fell somewhere within the 'hostile' range.

"John?" Bernadette asked, her voice sounding like nails screeching across a black board. Reese immediately stiffened. Subconsciously he pulled his arm out from behind Zoe like he had been burned, aware of the puzzled look his companion was aiming at the side of his head.

"Ehm, uh, Bernadette." He stammered. This was so not happening.

Bernadette still regarded him with that look, not sparing Zoe beside him one glance. "I just came over to say 'thank you' for you and Harold looking after Ms. Fluffles while I was out of town." She trailed off, her eyes shortly moving over to Zoe and back on him again.

John could practically feel Zoe alongside of him wanting to ask what was going on, but he refused to acknowledge her presence. He absurdly hoped that if he pretended that she wasn't there Bernadette might not take notice. Knowing Bernadette this could get ugly. Very ugly.

"Ehm, you are welcome," he stammered again after the silence had already stretched too long.

Once more Bernadette eyes were moving back and forth between Zoe and him and John inwardly cringed. So much for his great strategy. He cleared his throat and indicated Zoe next to him.

"Bernadette this is Zoe."

Bernadette looked at Zoe and tried her best to shoot daggers of ice her way before saying in a sickly sweet voice, "Nice to meet you."

Reese attempted a placating smile but knew all he was achieving was a grimace. He indicated Bernadette. "Zoe this is Bernadette."

Zoe shot him a puzzled look, then hesitatingly turned her head to face the strange middle-aged woman in a horrible purple outfit. She flashed her a smile. "Hello."

Zoe's smile died on her lips after finding herself under the scrutiny of a very uncomfortable, hostile stare. She turned to look at John whose cheeks had turned an interesting shade of red and who refused to look at her.

"Well," Bernadette said eventually, still using that sickly sweet tone to her voice that made John's stomach churn, "you two have a nice evening."

"Yes, thank you." John replied, relieved - yet slightly shocked at how easily he apparently was going to get off the hook. As Bernadette turned around he relaxed, leaned back against the cushion and expelled the breath he'd been holding.

Too soon, however.

Bernadette stopped and whipped around. "Actually, no. I... I know it's none of my business, but what the hell are you doing, John?" She began, obviously trying to control her rage and failing more with every word that left her mouth even faster than her usual mile-a-minute speed.

"I noticed that something has been bothering poor Harold for weeks now, but he kept insisting that things were fine between the two of you. How ... how could you do this to him, John? He'd do anything for you and you thank him by cheating on him like this?! With -" by now Bernadette was gesturing wildly with her right index finger pointing it in Zoe's direction. "- that woman! How could you?! John! Harold does not deserve this, you lying Son of a ... Shame on you! And shame on you!" Screaming now, Bernadette stabbed her finger at John and Zoe then turned around and stomped off, leaving the stunned couple behind. All conversation had died down in the bar during Bernadette's outburst and at least a hundred eyes were staring at them.

"Okay," Zoe spoke first, a little uncertain. "What. Was. That?"

John groaned, put his forehead in the palm of his right hand and shook his head. "A long and ridiculous story."

Zoe just looked at him, amused at his obvious discomfort.

"So, John ... you and Harold?" She drawled with a teasing tone to her voice and smiled at Reese's annoyed grunt. "Why am I not surprised?"

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The End ...

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Thank you all for reading!