Title: Continuation

Summary: The road home to the Library and the immediate aftermath.

Disclaimer: Person of Interest is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

Spoilers: 2.02 Bad Code

A/N: Finch's POV. No beta, so all mistakes are my fault.

ooooooo

Finch had been slightly awed by the efficiency with which Reese had returned them back home to the City. It had barely seemed like any time at all had passed as they had transferred from one mode of transportation to another until they arrived back within a comfortable distance to the Library. Well, it had seemed like barely anytime at all for him, but Harold presumed that, for John, it must have seemed like an eternity.

His body was taking quite a while to metabolize the drug Root had forcibly injected him with, keeping him lethargic for the most part during their trip. Every time he'd awakened after closing his eyes and dozing off for a few minutes, he was confronted with a variation of the same basic image – Mr. Reese still on high alert, more 'hyper-vigilant' than he'd ever before seen the other man be.

Normally John projected utter calm in the most chaotic of situations, and he rarely revealed what he was truly thinking or feeling. He could be surrounded by a gang of thugs ready to kill him and he'd outwardly appear to be unconcerned with the precarious position he was in. Over time though, Finch had learned to spot some of his friend's barely and rarely there tells, but that knowledge was completely unnecessary right now, because the man beside him was not even bothering to hide them.

Opening his eyes from time-to-time, Finch could tell that just about every muscle in the ex-operative's body was wound too tight, much more than any trite metaphor could suitably describe. Tension and worry were obviously at war with the younger man's determination to get the two of them as soon as possible back safe onto familiar ground. It was a little disconcerting to be able to so easily see behind what was usually a meticulously maintained mask.

Ever since they'd left the train station, his travelling companion had been mostly silent, and Harold had observed Reese more than once surveying their surroundings for Root or other potential threats. During bouts of wakefulness he'd also noticed the ex-soldier's fairly regular attempts to surreptitiously check on him, and realized that he was probably exacerbating his friend's anxiety by continuing to be so out of it. Harold couldn't help it though; the psychological trauma of his kidnapping in conjunction with his own exhaustion and the lingering effects of the sedative were more than enough to keep him down for the time being.

Once they'd passed some indiscernible line, some seemingly random point on their way back, his friend had awakened him with a slight nudge to the shoulder and the declaration that he was being taken to a doctor to get checked out. Given the look on his obviously exhausted friend's face, which shifted at least once to his injured hand, Harold decided to not even bother protesting or arguing. Instead, he'd promptly supplied the address and phone number of a trusted physician who would be willing to see him after normal office hours.

Having arrived at Dr. Nolan's office in relatively short order, the tension he'd seen in Reese's body seemed to ratchet up yet another notch. The taller man had somehow managed to become even more vigilant, even more wary of their surroundings. Finch didn't believe for one moment that John didn't trust his judgment, but that it was more along the lines of the fact that he hadn't had the prior chance to vet the physician, and was unsure if the man presented yet another threat to their lives.

However, after just a few minutes spent watching Nolan and then another few minutes checking out the building, much of Reese's distrust for the stranger and the situation bled away. When neither he nor the doctor had been paying attention, his friend had suddenly appeared in the treatment room, informed them that he needed to run an errand, and then just as quietly slipped back out of the room. The admonition to stay put had been easily inferred.

John re-entered the doctor's office just as he'd been coming out of the treatment room, his physician repeating the after-care instructions for his now re-bandaged hand. Inquiries into the nature of the errand had been summarily dismissed with the promise to explain in the near future. Inexplicably, Reese's mood had appeared to have lifted a fraction in the short time he'd been gone even though he was still tense and highly-vigilant.

It took a few minutes for him to realize it, but eventually he recognized that the route they were taking was one that led away from the Library. Immediately, he questioned where they were headed, and once Harold found out that they were definitely not headed to their HQ but towards one of their safe houses, he vehemently protested their intended destination. Giving everything that had happened recently, he would not be able to rest until he had checked out the Library's computers for himself. Indecision briefly flickered over Reese's face before he nodded once and turned the car around.

Reese somehow hovered over him without looking like he was hovering as they made their way deeper into the Library. Finding a large dog with a gnawed-on valuable first edition in its mouth had been an unwelcome surprise – at least now he could deduce where John had disappeared to – but he let it go in favor of assessing his computer system. He would get the full story behind Bear from John in due time.

When he first sat down in front of his computer screens, it seemed like he'd been away from them for months instead of the few days he'd actually been gone. While he was busy checking for security breaches, John fed Bear a few treats from a container stored in the top drawer of the filing cabinet, and settled the furry intruder down on the other side of the room. Once that was done, Reese began pacing back and forth the length of the room, while the dog watched his every move. The younger man apparently needed to work off some excess energy even though he looked like he could drop at any moment.

Eventually, Harold couldn't take it anymore – the pacing or the readily apparent exhaustion – and he'd pleaded for John to sit down in a rarely used chair on the other side of the work table. Reese's face clearly expressed how he felt about that idea, but after a slight hesitation, he complied and sat down. After a minute though, he stood and moved the chair around the table so that his back was towards the window, giving himself an unobstructed view of the entire room. Finch had spared his friend a brief, irritated glance at the disruption before letting himself get lost in his task. In reply, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Reese smirk and shift into a more relaxed posture, seemingly content to watch him work.

Finch, not knowing how long he'd been occupied, finally finished the check of his computers and the Library's security system. He'd found that Alicia Corwin had breached the building's security, but had not attempted to gain access to his network. A thorough search of available resources allowed him to conclude that she had apparently not informed anyone of their location before Root had murdered her. The knowledge that their HQ had not been completely breached and was still viable caused all of the remaining energy to drain out of him and his exhaustion return full force. He was ready to drop into the arms of Morpheus until the Machine came up with a new Number.

He stretched and turned towards his silent companion, suddenly curious as to why Reese had not interrupted to encourage him to eat or rest before now. Turning his chair slightly and grimacing at the slight squeak it had made, he had his answer. His friend had, at long last, succumbed to his exhaustion. Slouched down with his legs crossed and stretched out before him, John looked uncomfortable in the chair. Reese's upper body looked even more uncomfortable slumped over with his head awkwardly propped up on his left fist which was in turn propped up on the arm of the chair. If he wasn't awakened soon, the ex-CIA agent would likely be sporting a sore neck, but guessing that John had likely not slept more than an hour or two over the last several days or more, he abhorred the idea of waking the younger man.

Reese was usually a very light sleeper unless unconscious or drugged, so he was surprised that his friend had not awakened when he'd moved his chair. That fact alone made up his mind; he didn't have the heart to deprive his rescuer a little down time. With few keystrokes, he set his computer to sound an alarm in two hours. Hopefully the time would be sufficient for John to feel rested enough to drive him to one of his apartments. Knowing he would rest easier with John on the premises, he decided he would attempt to convince the currently slumbering man to take advantage of one of the guest rooms for some more sleep. Given the younger man's determination to get him back and the protectiveness he'd shown, Harold thought there was a better-than-average chance Reese would actually accept the offer.

He spared a glance towards Bear, who was just then settling back down to sleep, having apparently been awakened by his recent actions. He wasn't overly fond of dogs or other pets, but for John's sake, he was willing to tolerate the animal. Pushing back slightly from his desk, Harold stretched out his legs in front of him before leaning more comfortably back in his chair. It wouldn't do his damaged body any good, especially after the last few days, to spend another night in his computer chair, but it was a worthy sacrifice on his part in order to repay a small portion of the debt he owed Reese.

Harold drifted off to sleep comforted by the thought that he and John could continue their work for a little while longer.

ooooooo

The end.

ooooooo

A/N: I thought writing Reese's POV was difficult, but Finch seemed much more difficult, and I'm not sure I got it right. Either way...

Thanks for reading!