As it turned out, Claire was actually a fairly capable number. She'd figured out for herself that her abusive ex boyfriend was onto her, and had upped her own security precautions. Covering her tracks, erasing her digital footprint, she dyed her hair and cut off four inches. Her eye for shadowed figures following her around suddenly became sharp, and Reese had needed to duck out of the way more times than he would care to admit to. He'd been made twice, and figured she was starting to understand he wasn't just conveniently in the same bars she was by the third time they 'bumped into one another'.

In a nutshell, she'd ditched their tail and had become rather impossible to find.

"She's good." Harold had offered from behind the monitor, watching as Reese jotted around a cornerstone, having lost her again.

He huffed, "We can't keep an eye on her like this, Finch."

"May I suggest replacing her bug?"

"She found the last one, I'm sure she'll be looking for anything new."

Harold hummed, busily clicking away at the keyboard, "Can we enlist the help of a contact? Perhaps a new face-"

"She'll make them too." Reese let out a hefty sigh before settling down on a city bench and pinching the bridge of his nose, "This probably isn't what you want to hear, but we might have to drop this one, Finch."

Frowning at the screen, Harold spoke more sternly into his com signal, "We don't 'drop' numbers, Mr. Reese."

"She doesn't want our help, Finch. We can't exactly force it."

"You're a strange man following her, offering to save her from the previous strange man following her." he bemused, "I hardly believe her caution to be of fault."

"I didn't say it was."

Harold frowned, "Come back to the library, you're already fairly close. We can regroup, figure out a new plan and see what we can do for Claire." It was assuring to see John turn and start to make his way back, following his orders. Harold didn't quite know why he liked it, but he always felt a little more secure when it happened, When Reese came back, "If you still believe sending someone else to follow her isn't wise, then maybe-"

The alarming click of a gun from behind his head jolted Harold into silence. Someone was in the library. Somebody was standing behind him, he felt the ghost of the barrel against his scalp, pointing a gun at his head.

"Who the hell are you and why are you following me?!"

"Harold?" John's worried voice came over the comm.

Claire was quick to order him to shut off the connection, poking the gun a little harder against his head, "Who the hell is that? The guy from the bars?" she scoffed, "Why the hell are you sick fucks following me!? Did Josh send you?" Harold tried to keep himself calm, breathing steadily as Claire seemed to lose her composure. She clutched at her hair with the free hand not holding the gun, cringing, "Why can't you all just leave me alone!?"

"Finch!"

Harold winced as Claire grabbed him by the neck of his coat, swerving him around in the chair so that he shielded her from Reese, the gun plainly trained against his temple. "Don't come any closer!" she warned, glaring at him, "I'll shoot!"

"Claire," Reese tried, calmly raising his hands, watching Harold carefully, "It's okay. Please take the gun off my friend, and we can talk about this."

"You sick fuckers were following me!"

"Claire, believe it or not, we're here to help you. We know about Josh, we know he's after you, I can promise you we're not working with him."

She scoffed, "The fact that you even know about him... Jesus..." she licked her lips once and pressed the barrel more firmly against Finch's head, "I can't- You can't expect me to be stupid enough to trust you."

"Claire, I'm not asking you to trust me." He spoke softly, quietly taking a cautious step forward, "I'd just like you to put the gun down."

"Why?"

"Because you're scaring him."

Finch huffed, trying to tame the fear he obviously hadn't been hiding well enough, "I assure you, Mr. Reese, I am more than capable of-"

"Please, Claire."

The desperate sincerity in his tone startled Harold. He'd known Reese to be kind, soft of voice, but he'd never truly seen such a true performance. He was worried for Harold's safety. "Mr. Reese-"

"Shut up." Claire ordered, pressing the gun tight into his neck, making him wince.

John noticed, and his face grew hard. "He has a bad spine. You're hurting him. Jesus, aim the gun at me if you want to, but just stop."

She seemed to hesitate, watching John out the corner of her eye before really looking at Finch, giving him a quick once over. "Sorry." she muttered bitterly, loosening her grip a fraction.

"We can stop trying to help if you want, but you should know that you're in danger, Claire."

"Yeah, no shit. I always am. How do you even know that? I was doing just fine until you showed up."

Reese inhaled sharply, shaking his head, "I can't tell you how we know. You just have to trust us."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No. Anyone that could dodge a man like that is definitely not stupid, Claire." he bowed his head a little, just to seem that much less threatening, "If you want, we can stop all together. Just please let my friend go."

"Mr. Reese. You can't make promises like that. She needs our help-"

"I don't need anyone's help." she bit, turning back to Harold.

Reese took a startled step forward, only catching himself when her head snapped towards the movement.

"Please Claire." he tried again, "He's-" he cut himself off, shaking his head.

Like a coil releasing it's tension, Claire softened, looking over at Reese one last time. There was a small beat of silence, where the two locked eyes and a trickle of understanding seemed to grace her features. She sighed shakily, gently releasing Finch and lowering her gun, "He's your Eli, isn't he?"

Harold didn't understand, but he was thankful for the release, tampering his curiosity as he watched them interact. John however, nodded his head, a dejected expression on his face. She let out a heaving puff of breath, tucked the gun away, and agreed to listen to what they had to say. Harold refrained from talking about it for the rest of the mission. He could interrogate Reese once Claire was taken care of.

It took a few days still to track down the ex boyfriend, Reese more than happy to be the one to take care of it. Finally finished and alone, Claire safely settled in with her mother and her ex boyfriend behind bars, Finch decided to bring it up.

"Who is Eli?" he asked casually, entering the final bit of Claire's data into his computer.

"Hmm?" Reese lifted his head from the book he'd been reading, perched over his lap as he sat in a chair next to Finch.

"Eli. When Claire... decided to give us a chance. She said something about an Eli."

Reese was quiet for a moment, studying Harold, "It doesn't really matter."

"Mr. Reese." he tried again, a more firm voice this time, "She said that I was your Eli. I feel this is a rather important discussion. At least, it seems to be, as it pertains to me."

"One for the future, Harold."

"I think I'd like to talk about it now, John."

Reese looked startled briefly, obviously unaccustomed to the first name from Harold. He sighed, closed the book, and stared Harold directly in the eye, "Eli is a man in her home town. He helped her escape. He kept her safe. He was the one secretly wiring money to her. She loved him."

Finch frowned, "Loved?"

"The ex boyfriend. He found the money trail, put two and two together." he grimaced, a sour look on his face, "Eli didn't make it."

"She lost the man she loved..." John nodded silently, about to return back to his book before Finch registered everything, "But... I fail to see how that relates to us. She said that I was your Eli."

"Hmm." he hummed, noncommittally, "You saved me too."

"I would understand that, but... couldn't she have associated me to someone else who helped her? Or, were you being specific?"

Reese smirked, "Specific?"

Scoffing, "Romantic interest, Mr. Reese." he huffed, craning his head back a little, making timid eye-contact, "And you..?" Harold couldn't get the word out. He managed to keep a shy amount of composure, gulping down a breath of air before finally pushing out his question, "You love me?"

Never breaking eye contact, expression neutral, Reese replied, "I do."

There was a sudden lump caught in Harold's throat. Breathing felt just a hint more difficult and his face was warm. He'd thought about it, certainly, but it had never occurred to him that Mr. Reese, the strong, independent wolf that he was, would want someone like Harold. His mouth opened and closed, but words didn't come out. He settled on silence, just watching John as he was watching Harold. Quietly assessing one another.

John was patient, silent and waiting. It was nearly a full few minutes before Reese's shoulders visibly slumped. He sighed, closed his book, shook his head and made to stand, but Harold couldn't leave it at that. He tried to follow, shakily trying to push up from his chair, injury getting the better of him as he winced. "Wai-"

Reese caught his arm, concerned, "What are you doing?"

"Mr. Reese- John. I- Can I?" He looked confused for a moment, swapping glances from eye to eye, looking for something particular. "Can I... That is..." he tried again, "Would you kiss me?"

There was a moment Finch thought he would say no, silently standing, staring openly at Harold, processing what he'd just said. And then Reese was there, strong grip hauling Finch up and out of the chair, an arm around his waist and the other hand tucked up in the crook of his neck.

Harold held fast, clutching desperately to John's suit, trying to remain on his shaky legs. He felt less steady than normal, but whether that was just his injury or the intensity with which Reese was radiating, was unclear. Stubble scraping his cheek and lips moving passionately against his own, Reese kissed him. It was wonderful. Only a little coarse, full of emotion, with only a short moment of separation, sharing air, foreheads pressed against one another.

Harold, honest to god, smiled, "Would you mind if we did it again?"

"Not at all, Finch."

He felt the warmth from Reese's mouth on his, "Again?"

"Of course."

The peck was a few second longer this time, "Once more?"

"A hundred times, if you want."

He chuckled, "I'm afraid you'll have to be careful with me, Mr. Reese. I'm not as... spry as others may be, or as I once was."

"I don't care." John huffed, thumb brushing over Finch's cheek reassuringly.

A content smile slipped over Harold's face, "I'm glad." he said.

And John kissed him again.