"Earlier...what did you mean when you said Bad Code?"
"It means a flawed design. The term applies to machines, not people. We have the ability to change, evolve."
"Even killers...?"
"Just a few more steps, Finch…"
"Leave 'lone…I c'n do thish…"
Reese releases his employers elbow as Finch swats at his hand…again. Thus it had been for the three blocks they had traversed from the pub: from testy commands of "take 'ur hands off!", to rambling dissertations on the merits of certain printed editions. Reese had alternated between frustration and amusement.
On the street his employers uncoordinated ambling was not an issue as he knew he could grab Finch should the older man falter, but here on the stairs a miss-step could result in a nasty fall…for both of them. He grabs Finch's elbow again as they progress up the last few steps, ignoring the huffing protestations from the older man.
Having now reached the top of the stairway, the only barrier is the expanding metal gate that Finch had insisted on locking when they left…this in spite of Bear guarding the chamber. Reese's argument that the dog would eat anyone who tried to get into the library were summarily ignored, but interestingly, not for reasons that Reese anticipated.
Logically Finch understood the military trained animal would deter any criminal activity…but emotionally? He'd had Reese lock the gate because "someone might try to steal the dog…"
The ex-op hadn't said a word, simply rolled his eyes as he keyed the gate, and then whispered the guard command to Bear: "Bewaken!"
The dog now stood on the other side of the barrier, greeting the return of his pack with pricked ears and enthusiastic tail wags. Especially the return of his Alpha. Bear pushes his nose into the gate and takes in the familiar scents, cataloguing recognizable flavors: the musty odor of chemically cleaned materials from the smaller man...along with a scent reminiscent of his past owners – the fruity bouquet of fermentation.
And then there is the unique scent of the tall man, layered with the soapy, clean smell of recently laundered clothes. He especially savors the scents of his Alpha…
"Ok, Finch. I need you to stand right there while I open the gate. Can you do that?"
"…'course!"
Reese moves to the gate but no sooner has he started to unbolt the lock when…
"Look! 's happy to see me!"
Finch lurches away from the wall, stumbling into the gate before Reese grabs him by the arm, thrusting him to the side. Bear whines, picking up on anxiety and tension, his nails clicking on the library floor as he dances in place.
"Harold! Don't move!" Reese commands, turning sideways and leaning hip and shoulder into the smaller man, effectively pinning him against the wall as he turns his attention to the lock once more.
" 'ur squishin' me!" Finch squawks, squirming against the larger body holding him upright.
"Better I squish you than you fall down," is the unruffled reply. "All right, here we are. No…no…don't bend over! You can greet Bear after you sit down."
And with that last comment he skillfully maneuvers his boss through the library chamber to a smaller room in the rear, Bear following them, careful to stay behind his Alpha.
The area serves as storage for extra surveillance equipment but also as an emergency medical area and contains an undersized bed, chair, and couch, along with a private bathroom. Finch will simply have to sleep it off in here; there is no way he is going to risk taking the intoxicated geek to a safe house.
"Sit down. I'll get you some water and aspirin."
"I 'ave to…have to…"
"Bathroom?"
"Yeesh…"
The ex-op lends his support as the smaller man levers himself off the bed and rather unsteadily weaves his way to the bathroom. At the door Finch turns around to glare at his employee who followed him close behind.
"C'n do thish m'self!"
"All right. But don't lock the door in case you get dizzy."
Finch harrumphs, enters the bathroom and closes the door in Reese's face. And defiantly locks it.
Reese shakes his head. He stands near the door, anticipating the sound of a falling body, in which case the lock will not keep him out. But after waiting for an indeterminate amount of time, Finch finally reappears, and with the resolute dignity of a drunk, makes his way back to the bed.
With Finch safely seated on the edge of the bed, Reese goes on the hunt for aspirin while his boss coos and fusses over Bear. Fortunately the First Aid kit is kept well stocked and the ex-op returns quickly…just in time to see Finch bend forward in an attempt to unlace his shoes.
"Oh-oh…"
Reese pulls his boss up-right as the dizziness sets in, threatening to put the computer geek on the floor. Bear shows his own concern with his slowly wagging tail as he nuzzles the smaller man.
"I'll do that, Finch..! You take the aspirin and drink the water. All of it. "
The ex-op kneels before his boss and proceeds to unlace the stylish Berlutis. He can hear the ragged breathing above him and hopes Finch will stay awake at least long enough for him to get these fancy shoes off. Which is taking longer than expected because of course…only his pedantic boss would double knot the laces on dress shoes!
He grits his teeth against making any comment, and wishes he'd let his nails grow longer…because getting these knots loosened is a real challenge!
"'s so they don' come undone…" Finch supplies as an unnecessary explanation.
"Of course…"
The evening had not turned out quite as intended. It was a success in that he'd finally managed to lure the recluse from the library with the "let's go get a beer" invite, the game plan being to free Finch from the confines of his computer roost and get him relaxed enough to start talking. Reese figured once that wall had been breached, he could guide the conversation to more recent events.
Perhaps get his boss to give voice to the events of his imprisonment by that crazy woman…
But how is he to know that his employer is an incredibly cheap drunk? Though that is really something he should have been able to predict, given Finch has probably been prescribed industrial strength pain killers to deal with his disabilities. Meds which will greatly enhance the effects of any alcoholic drink.
As it was, three glasses of wine – well…really only two and a half, since half a glass laminated the table top when Finch miscalculated his reach - were enough to make the computer genius not only loose, but downright tipsy. At that point Reese scrapped his plan and headed them both home before Finch could embarrass himself…or worse, draw public attention to them both
.
"The other foot, Finch…"
His boss obediently places his shoe on Reese's knee, all the while rubbing the dog's ears. Bear is almost comatose with pleasure, turning his head this way and that to fully take advantage of the human massage. Reese looks up at the pair and smiles. At least that plan worked splendidly. Finch has bonded with the dog and so will have a protector whenever ex-op isn't around.
Perfect.
Actually their evening at the pub did have some amusement value. At one point Finch had become enthralled with a particular song playing on the jukebox and Reese had been sent back and forth with directions to "play it again, Sam…"
Fortunately, before the ex-op could protest the third such command, the spilled drink had focused Finch's facile, albeit somewhat sloshed mind, onto a different target, resulting in a rather brutal critique of the wine being served.
Reese had tuned out the more esoteric explanations of wine making and concentrated instead on the increased slurring of his employers chatter. It was time to go…
And so here he is, undoing an incredibly tight knot on a very expensive shoe…when he feels Finch lightly touch the top of his head.
"D'ou still miss her?"
The ex-op stills momentarily. This is the wine talking. He is only too familiar with how alcohol will feed the need to verbalize old heartaches and inner fears, and while he has managed to keep faith with his training and not articulate his pain, it is evident that Finch trusts him to share that grief. So now he has the choice of several options: simply not respond, pretend to misunderstand...or tell Finch it is none of his affair
In the end he chooses the truth, for despite his benefactors inebriated state, he is owed the truth.
"All the time, Harold. All the time…"
"I do too…" Finch sighs.
They are recalling similar memories…just different individuals. And as there is really nothing else to say, with his boss's current condition making the likelihood of an extended conversation highly doubtful, Reese silently continues to fight the persistent knot.
Finally able to untie the laces, he pulls off the second shoe and places the pair under the bed within easy reach, then reaches up to remove Finch's tie, only to have his hands swatted away.
"No! I c'n do thish!"
"Fine. And the jacket too.."
After a brief struggle, in which the computer genius seems to have forgotten how to get an arm out of a sleeve, Finch finally hands both over to his employee, allowing Reese to stuff the tie in the jacket pocket and hang the Caraceni on the back of the chair. Finch shifts his legs onto the bed and lowers himself to the pillow.
"Finch, do you need…?" Reese stops in mid-sentence, noting that the reclusive billionaire's breathing has fallen into the rhythm of sleep. Snapping his fingers at Bear, he quietly moves to the door to turn off the lights.
" 'ur a good man, Mr. Reesh…" Finch says softly.
Man and dog turn around.
"I'm a killer, Finch"
"Were. Were a killer. You saved me. You d'int have to."
The ex-op pauses, then replies, "I'll always be there for you…because you were there for me."
And as he leaves his benefactor sleeping on the too small bed, John Reese, former CIA operative, sniper extraordinaire…ex-killer…thanks a God he thought he no longer believed in, for the safe return of his friend.