John woke in a strange bed, naked and alone. He looked around and knew where he was, by the smells, the brickwork and books, he was at the library. He sat up and felt awful, not ill, though that would probably come later with guilt. He felt awful because of what he had done to end up in this bed, and not alone. He found his boxers and slipped them on.

Why had he done what he did? It was his fault, he'd fucked up on a number and it had ended in a death, it hurt him and in turn hurt Finch who watched it happen. He found his pants and pulled them on. He'd come back to the library. He was in a state and was met by Finch also in a state; a hug seemed fine and normal. He found his shirt creased up in amongst the bedding, he slipped it on and started to do up the buttons.

Why did he have to take it a step further? Why didn't he find it enough to hug Finch? Why did he have to kiss him? And god damn it Finch responded, clearly with the same need and want.

He found his shoes by the bed which he sat on and put them on tying the laces. He'd not stopped it, he let it carry on, the kissing, the touching, the fog of lust and desire taking over, which led them to bed, together...

He stood, dressed and now he had to face whatever was behind the door waiting, anger? Desire? Hatred? Violence? No it was Finch he wouldn't be violent, but how would he be feeling?

John slowly turned the door knob and pulled it open, he could hear keys tapping, and Finch was inside. Dread suddenly filled John, he didn't regret what happened but he knew Finch would. He had invaded and breached Finch's personal side, he was a secretive and well-guarded man but he'd let John in, and John knew he would be mad at himself as well as at John.

He turned the corner and saw Finch sat as usual behind the monitors.

John had to say something, "Morning."

Finch looked up then back down with no words.

"Right I'm going."

"Sounds about right." said Finch.

"Sorry what?" he asked.

"I said sounds about right."

"Why? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, just go."

"No, speak up."

"No point."

"Yes there is, we have to work together. Whatever your trying to say tell me."

Finch stood, "So it's only now it matters that we have to work together, after you fucked me."

This hit John, "I didn't fuck you."

"Felt like it from where I was laid."

"It was more than that."

"Of course it was Mr. Reese."

"It was, what's up with you?"

"Nothings up with me, I assure you."

"Finch…" John started to bridge the gap between them. "Talk to me." He was stood just in front

of Finch and he reached out.

"Do not touch me." warned Finch in a stern voice.

"Bit late to say that."

"It is isn't it, you've been there, done ALL that."

"Yes with no complaints, all I got was moans of pleasure."

"That's what you think is it?"

"Ohh fuck this..." John had to leave, his temper flaring.

"Done that."

"Shut up, Finch."

Finch's face dropped at this, John would never speak to him like this but he was pushing all the wrong buttons and John couldn't stand it. He'd used sex as a weapon before and felt disgusting and dirty, only now could he finally get that close to someone again and now he felt as though he had done wrong, as though he had forced Finch and raped him, it was killing him.

John stepped away. "If you hated it that much and feel I did you wrong then call Carter, report me for rape. But this was more than that to me." and he turned to leave, "Call if we have a number." and he walked out.

Outside he felt sick; he felt he had done wrong, maybe he had misread what Finch was saying. He strolled to Central Park and sat under a tree away from the path and people. He wanted to drink it all away but he couldn't, he wouldn't, he'd escaped his alcohol filled days, Finch had saved him from that. He owed him so much but had now completely messed it all up. He run through the whole thing in his mind, every noise and word Finch had let out, never a 'stop', never a push, or any affliction of pain to stop him. Only moans, groans and... It struck him.

"Finch said 'I love you'…" John whispered into the quiet, Finch was freaking out, he said he would never love again, maybe it was a slip, and he'd been on his own since he left Grace, maybe it was just a reaction to the feelings, or maybe he had let out a dark secret. John felt his cell start ringing.

"Hello?" he answered.

"We have a number."

"Right."

"I'll send through the details."

"Ok."

"Call if you need anything."

"Will do."

"Bye John." and the line cut.

He never usually called him John, but he decided to ignore it, work time. He tracked down the person and it seemed clear cut, but it wasn't, and he got shot at again, it skimmed his leg and he was bleeding, a lot.

"Finch? I need you."

"What's wrong Mr. Reese?" he sounded scared.

"Guns aren't fun in a fist fight."

"You've been shot? How badly?" Panic set in his voice.

"Skimmed my leg. I'm on my way in."

"Ok, I'll sort the kit out."

John limped to the library, luckily it wasn't far away, and he got up the stairs. "Finch?"

"Back room." came his voice and John limped his way through.

Finch appeared. "Lean on me." he said tucking his arm around John's waist.

"It's fine."

"Don't be stupid." said Finch and John lent on him.

Once in the room John undid his trousers. "Uh it's only small." He said looking down at it then saw Finch with his back to him; he sat up on the table while taking off his jacket. "Ready." he announced and Finch turned, he had wipes and gauze in his hand.

"Bleeding well though." added Finch and started to wipe the wound. John gripped the table edge as it was stinging.

"Finch."

"Yeah?"

"You ok?"

"I'm fine Mr. Reese." was all he said and put the gauze on the wound. "Hold please." he asked.

John moved his hand to it, slightly brushing Finch's hand, which quickly he pulled it away and turned away. John sighed, what had he done? He'd hurt Finch and it was his entire fault. Finch turned back and started to tape the gauze down.

"That should do you. It wasn't deep." said Finch walking away to the sink.

John eased himself down from the table and pulled up his trousers.

"Take those off, I have a spare pair for you in my wardrobe, won't be a second." and Finch vanished out of the room.

John smiled. Finch was so caring for him and considerate, he didn't deserve to have Finch around, and he'd messed it all up, for one moment of lust.

"Here you go." came Finch's voice.

John looked up at Finch and wanted to cry, the stress of this was playing out on Finch's face, the pain, the hurt, the betrayal.

John felt he had raped Finch, he was a secret private person and he had stripped him to nothing, he hated himself, a noise interrupted his thoughts.

"It's the machine, I'll check it." and Finch vanished again.

John really did hate himself, he had no one in his life, only Finch and he'd messed it up, he let his feelings for Finch be turned into lust and he was now losing him.

John shouted a loud throaty noice and punched the wall next to him, it hurt, he held his wrist and looked at his hand, a good deep split across the knuckles, he kept watching as the blood began to rise out and run down his fingers, it wasn't taking away his pain though, suddenly he felt a hand on his cheek.

"John... John... Please look at me."

He looked up, it was Finch. He couldn't have him touching him, he moved his cheek away.

"Mind the blood." he said.

"It's fine, what happened?" Finch sounded concerned, and this upset John more.

"Nothing, what was it? The machine?" he said as he stepped back, but Finch grabbed him.

"Forget the machine, let me see." he said.

"No, let me go."

"No John."

"Why?"

"Why should you show me?"

"No... Yes... Oh I don't know." and he held out his hand in defeat, Finch took it, and felt it. "it's just surface damage, can I dress it? Please?"

John sighed, "Yes."

Finch got out wipes, gauze and a bandage, and set to gently cleaning it. "I hope you didn't hurt the wall." he joked.

"No, I can't cause anyone else pain."

He felt Finch sigh. "I'm not hurt... I'm... Ohh I don't know." said Finch.

"You are, you never stammer or struggle for words with me, ever."

"It'll pass."

"Will it?"

"Hold please." said Finch after placing the gauze.

John moved his hand, being careful not go brush Finch's again. Then Finch wrapped the bandage around in silence.

"Done." he said putting a safety pin through the end.

"Thank you."

"That's ok. The machine had an update, Jodie handed herself into the police, and she's not being bailed. It's over."

"Good, I don't feel I could go another round with her guys."

"Ok." said Finch and walked to wash his hands again.

"Can I go home?" asked John, he felt tired and needed to get away from Finch.

"The numbers done, you can do as you wish."

"Thanks." said John and he started to take off his trousers, and slipped into the spare ones, they fit perfectly. "Thanks for these." he said.

He got his jacket, and put it on. "If you need me or a new number comes in, I'll just be at the apartment."

"Ok Mr. Reese." and he followed John out, and then he sat at the monitors. "See you later." Finch said and John left.