Terence Beale, CIA supervisory agent, has an appointment.
It all turned sour in New York with the fall of Samaritan, but as always, there are secrets behind the secrets. John Reese is dead, but he isn't gone. Root is dead, but she isn't gone.

All you need to know, really, is that the Machine approves.

Oh God, I finally wrote something where John isn't dead ( because he isn't, I refuse to acknowledge the contrary ).
Only, to do that, I had to up the sci-fi in the show just a bit more.

Heroes never die

Terence Beale had seen many things during his life, met various kind of people during his career, and been confronted to the most convoluted schemes.

Still, nothing quite like that.

The supervisory agent had known it to be possible for quite some time, true. After all, he had had the proof before his very eyes since 2007, however incredible it could seem.

The things technology and large funding could do these days...

The CIA agent closed his eyes for a moment. He had to go and see him, true, but they hadn't agreed on one exact time. And Beale was now wondering if, with the latest change in the other one's condition, there would be something different in him. Going in the man's office meant getting an answer, true, but Beale found he was almost... anxious about that answer.

It was strange, really, because he had already spent eight years wondering about it. Wondering about the difference between the other one and "John Reese". Wondering if the two really were different, or if they were really the same.

It had been confusing, at first.

In fact, it still was confusing.

Only, now, "John Reese" was dead, and there was nothing left to be confused about. There was only the other one left, out of the two. Only the one who wasn't "John Reese".

It was one of the strangest confidential situation Terence Beale had ever been in, nonetheless.

The supervisory agent took a deep breath, recalling the last eight years.

On one hand, "John Reese", CIA operative with an extensive military past, who never backed down on a mission, not because he liked it, but because someone had to do it and he'd rather it'd be someone who actually cared for collateral damages. A man whose loyalty never wavered, even if some could argue that his refusal to come back with Mark Snow said otherwise, because he wasn't loyal to the CIA, but to the people in general. A man who didn't think much of himself, despite tremendous skills and a sturdier moral compass than even most civilians'. A man who would get his hands dirty if there was no other option, because, in the end, he didn't matter as much as the ones he was working to save.

Or so "John Reese" thought, Terence Beale would add.

On the other hand, a CIA supervisory agent who was very intelligent, not in the genius way, but in that he'd understand about anything as long as it was kept within his levels of knowledge. A man who could have learned many things, perhaps, and made a name for himself in what would be considered a genius way, but who simply had never been interested by sciences if they were only for themselves. Tell him that he'd need to learn this scientific law to better use a weapon, he would do it; make him learn without purpose, he'd put the book down and complain that it wasn't his field. A man who'd rather use his knowledge and perceptiveness directly, than to watch and plan in the shadows, but who, by a twist of fate, had been forced into a wheelchair and an office.

The other one would have given anything to be at "John Reese"'s place, even after Ordos, even more after Ordos. The irony being that the man couldn't be at "John Reese"'s place, no matter how much he wanted it, because he already was at the operative's place.

That, Beale thought, was where it became truly confusing.

Looking at the other one in his wheelchair, in the darkened office that some had began to nickname the ghost's lair, these last eight years, it had been like looking at a ghost of John Rykes, the operative renamed "Reese" by his partner "Kara Stanton". And perhaps, in a way that was more accurate than many people thought, even within the Agency, the other one was John Rykes' ghost, while "John Reese" was his living persona.

If anyone had access to Beale's thoughts, right now, the CIA agent was quite certain they wouldn't understand a thing. The ones who knew about the other one's true identity were few. Terence Beale himself, because at the time it had happened, he had been the man's superior, until the man had been pulled onwards into a similar grade as Beale's. Three scientists who worked for the governments. And a handful of people at the very top of the CIA.

It was all confidential, obviously.

It had all started when "John Reese" had been repatriated into the USA in 2007 with a very grave, with serious spinal injury, infection and everything that could make it go wrong in tow. "Reese" had been working a mission with "Stanton" in Spain that had been successful, but at a cost. With no good intel and the absolute necessity to complete the mission, the operative had stayed behind to make sure that his partner would get what they had come for to safety. When "Stanton" had managed to call for someone, "Reese" had gotten rid of almost all the enemies alright, but he was also unconscious and bleeding from several bullet wounds.

Obviously, Beale mused, it might be more accurate to say that it had all begun years before, decades, perhaps, when the government had taken to experimentating on cloning and other variations that may one day allow a destroyed operative to go back on the field.

But for "John Reese"'s superior, it had all became an actual fact when one of his own superiors had walked in his office, and said that there might be a way to save his operative. It hadn't been a sure shot, true, but there had been a possibility that it'd work. One way or another.

Because, obviously, it was a first, and, as far as Beale knew, it hadn't been tried ever again since, for whatever confidential reason he wasn't privy to. Unless it was for whatever scientific reason that he wouldn't understand anyway. Same thing, in the end.

The facts were that someone high up in the Agency had thought it might be a great idea to test that on John Rykes of all people, and now that person and the others who knew about the project were at the same time very happy about the outcome, and frustrated by what the other one had achieved.

But now, Terence Beale had to remind himself, now, "John Reese" was dead.

Samaritan... Yet another thing the supervisory agent wouldn't have ever dreamt of, but that had still become a reality. Though, truth be told, Beale liked the Machine way more than he liked Samaritan. The Machine might not be as open, but it wasn't giving orders to humans, only indications. Whoever had made the Machine had made something way better than Samaritan had ever been.

The CIA agent's mouth shifted into a sardonic smile as he forced himself up. He had a reunion with the other one to honor, after all...

Samaritan and the Machine... Yet something he wasn't supposed to know about. Control had been so proud of herself, all discreet and under the radar at the White House, but she had been far from knowing everything. The Machine kept secrets even from Control, after all.

As for Samaritan, the IA hadn't been old enough to know what the Machine knew, and had never found out about the oddity that was the other one.

Terence Beale couldn't help but to think back to these two faces of a coin, "John Reese" and the other one, as he walked to the other one's office. Logical, perhaps.

He still wondered who he'd see in there.

The other one, or...

Now that "John Reese" was dead, it was surprisingly weirder to think about it. Beale had tried very hard to understand how it all worked, these last eight years, but he still didn't have a clue, and now he had to take into account yet another change?

Comparing "John Reese" to the other one was difficult. Both corresponded with John Rykes, skills and personality wise, but at the same time they seemed completely different.

Beale pushed open the door to the other one's office, and was surprised to be greeted by light.

The other one hadn't ever lit his office once in the last eight years or so. Something to do with his mind bing already overloaded with information, so that he had to reduce the incoming information, at least on his side of the problem.

But, Terence Beale reasoned, now that "John Reese" was dead, there was no point in keeping the lights out.

A low voice greeted him from the other side of a desk of dark wood.

"Long time no see, Agent Beale."

A second voice, feminin this time, snorted from somewhere around the computer. It made the supervisory agent jump, even though he had know about this... woman already. Yet again, another thing he couldn't quite comprehend how it had came to be. Science really was becoming baffling over the years.

That's also what his mother said when he showed her the new type of cellphones, Beale realized. Perfect, now he was becoming as technology-outdated as his mother was. This could not be a good sign.

On the other hand, all this really made it look like it was right out of a sci-fi novel.

"Yeah, right, 'long time no see'. Apparently you were there in Langley all along, so it's not exactly accurate."

The other one glared dispassionately at his computer, but didn't answer. From what Beale had gathered during the last two years or so, he had grown accustomed to the woman's irritating personality. A feat, much like a lot of other things the other one had done so far.

Beale took a sit, and dropped a few files on the dark desk.

"I've got the info you wanted."

"Thanks for that. I could have done it myself, but I'm still adjusting to being back to... normal, I guess."

"How are you holding up?"

The other one looked around his office, in a way that waltzed between genuine surprise and habit. Yeah, right, because that could have been any other way? The man was disoriented between what he had known for eight years, and what he hadn't know for eight years. The two categories being actually composed of the exact same things.

"It's... I know how everything happened, why it happened that way, and even how difficult it was for me to handle, but at the same time, I am discovering all this all of a sudden. I even manage to be angry at myself for not having intervened some times when I could have done with the help. I was literally two people at the same time, Terence, and not just two people, but one who could move but didn't know, while the other knew but couldn't move."

Yes, exactly. The other one had always been aware of what "John Reese" had been doing, even after Ordos and his departure from the CIA, but "John Reese" had always thought he was someone completely normal. Hell, he had even thought he was John Rykes.

When, it reality, it was a bit more complicated than him simply being John Rykes.

"But, I'll manage... I managed to be like that for eight years, after all. It can only be simpler now."

Beale wasn't so sure about that, but he wasn't going to say it out loud. The other one seemed to know it too, he just tried to be optimistic. If anything, he had been able to handle the situation, like he had just said, for eight years. The supervisory agent wasn't sure just anyone could do that.

The voice in the computer sneered but said nothing either.

Beale's eyes flittered to the glass coffin, or whatever the name it had, in the back of the office. It wasn't exactly a coffin, of course, but it still looked like one, especially with the woman's body in it. Even more with the bullet wound that was still visible.

The other one's office was partially a science lab, if someone asked him, because there were more scientists who came in than actual CIA agents. Always taking care of this or that, first with the other one, and now that it had ended, with the woman.

The other one glanced at the computer, and sighed. He was probably regretting to have agreed to let her have access to his own computer, right now. Not only did he have to put up with her bad personality, but he also didn't have access to any kind of network. It had been the condition put down by the CIA to take care of the Root problem, because they sure as hell weren't going to let a confirmed hacker in their system. Especially not as the woman had absolutely nothing else to do right now.

"Terence, just tell me what you found..."

The CIA supervisory agent nodded.

"Harold Finch, or, you know, whatever his actual name is, left for Italy to see his fiancée. He mourns, for sure, but he seems to be alright otherwise. Despite him being wanted for treason, he will not be bothered by the CIA, as you asked five years ago. After all, he did do more for the USA than even some of our best agents. However, we won't be able to help if he gets noticed by another group."

"I'll just have to take a day off if that happens, I suppose..."

"Don't worry, big lug, I'll come with you if it come to this."

The other one didn't even react at the woman's choice of words, and Terence Beale once again wondered if he really didn't care or if the woman didn't really mean it. Everything tended to show that she really had no respect for the man, as if he was all brawn and no brain. Which was ridiculous, considering everything he had done. You didn't have to be a science expert to be intelligent.

Beale didn't bother looking up from his files.

"If you do, don't tell me why you're taking a day off. Because I'd have to report it, and I'm not sure our superiors would appreciate your initiative. They already didn't like it much when Reese was out in the street of NYC, if you remember."

"In that case they shouldn't have let Corwin order his death in Ordos."

"You know what I mean."

"Alright, I'll tell you I'm going to play chinese chess for the week if it comes to that."

"Good. Now, as for detective Lionel Fusco, he is continuing his job like he should, and not like he did before he met John Reese. He's getting a close look from IA because of his partner's disappearance, but since he doesn't have any more odd job to do, they can't find a thing about him... Or, nothing that's backed up by more than hearsay."

There was a silence after that, and Beale glanced at the other one, sensing a comment coming.

The man didn't disappoint.

"Perhaps I should go back there and become a NYPD detective again."

"You hate it. Too much paperwork, if I recall, and you can't shoot anyone in peace even to save their life. And I'm not even talking about your responsabilities here. You can't be in two places at once anymore."

"Then I'll just go as a CIA agent, I guess."

"As long as you don't get yourself into trouble, I suppose the higher ups won't try to clip your wings."

"They need him too much to do that."

The voice in the computer was right, as usual. The other one was the only opening the CIA had on the Machine, now that Northern Lights had been shut down. The other one and the woman were the only direct access they had, and they would never succeed in agreeing with the woman. They needed their link to the Machine.

"Perhaps, Root, but they could still get in my way just enough that it'd be a bother, if I don't act like they want. They can't get rid of me, but they won't hesitate to try and control me."

The consciousness that had somehow been uploaded by the Machine, just before she died at the hospital, and who was now inhabiting the other one's computer, waiting for her body to be ready again, grunted something vaguely offensive.

"John Reese"'s injuries from 2007 being treated like they had been was already difficult enough to comprehend, but this? At least, when Rykes had been injured and put into that coffin, when he had been separated, his body had been alive all along. Here, Samantha Groves wasn't even alive, but her mind was still here. It was too much for Beale to take in, and yet, somehow, he still did.

So the supervisory agent decided to simply stop thinking about it.

"Which leaves us with Sameen Shaw. The former ISA operative has taken back to receiving numbers rom the Machine, and is currently handling the saving of one Marco Dright. She is in New York, as always. For now, she manages alone, but perhaps she could come to appreciate if her partner in crime Root went to handle the more technical aspects of the job, once she'd be in better health..."

Because the Agency wasn't going to keep Root around, even if the other one vouched for her. At best, she'd be allowed out under the other one's supervision.

"Yeah, well, I'm waiting to have a body available too."

"Don't complain, Root. If I hadn't been there, you'd be dead alright. The Machine wouldn't have uploaded your consciousness if no one had been available to start the procedure on your body before it was irrecoverable."

The voice in the computer couldn't raise her eyebrows, because she currently had none, but Beale was almost certain she'd have, had she been able to. The relationship between her and the other one was frankly weird.

Perhaps it had something to do with how her point of view about the man had been turned to shreds during the last week. For her, even as she had come to tolerate him, he had always been the brawn over the brain, but now that she had come to realize what exactly he had done all these years...

He understood way more than she had ever thought he did. And his brain was apparently able to handle, though with difficulty, two lives at the same time.

Beale stood up from his seat, but didn't take his files back. They were for the other one, after all.

Perhaps he should stop calling him that. The man was only one again, so there would be no confusion in calling him John Rykes again. There was no "other one", now that "John Reese" wasn't anymore.

"Take some more time to adjust, John. The CIA wants you in charge of the external operatives while I'll continue to handle our own operatives when it comes to the Machine, but you've been out of that wheelchair for only a few days, and I wouldn't be surprised if you told me your mind was a mess. They won't ask anything of you as long as they aren't sure you are able to do it well."

John sneered a bit.

"Joy, another round of psychological exams! When you think I had to lie on several points and still be mostly truthful with Iris the last time it happened... How much is confidential here?"

Beale gave him a tight smile.

"About everything, as always, John."

"Splendid."

"I know, right?"

John Rykes stood up too, and accompanied Terence Beale to the door.

It still shocked the supervisory agent quite a bit, to see the other agent on his feet. Seeing "John Reese" in NYC had been quite a shock, the exact same way. Moreover, "John Reese" hadn't known...

When Terence Beale had had to deal with the spinal-injured John Rykes, in 2007, the man had been comatose all along. Beale had watched as these mad scientists somehow managed to completely duplicate the agent's body by using his DNA, without the spinal damage, obviously. He had listened when they had told him it might only work with the very same body, DNA-speaking. He had doubted, when the replica had been about to open his eyes.

But it had worked.

"John Reese", a man with John Rykes' body, memories and mind, had woken up and gone back to work, while the original John Rykes had stayed into that glass coffin, recovering. Somehow the scientists had managed to synchronize the two sides of John Rykes, but even them were quite surprised that it had actually worked. When they had started working on it, they had thought the original body would be discarded, but no.

After six months of working onto John Rykes' wounds, his original body had been back to normal. No trace of the spinal injury. None at all.

And at that point, the original John Rykes had opened his eyes too.

It had been a shock, yet again.

For a time, the scientists had thought they had actually managed to clone the man.

But even if he was healed, John Rykes wouldn't have been able to go on the field. Because the facts were that he could see and sense everything, not only in his own body, but in "John Reese"'s body too. Moving on his own, while being aware of everything his other self was doing, had proved a challenge, hence the wheelchair. Having to deal with two sights at the same time hadn't been easy either, hence the darkened office and the limited interactions. To keep his body from losing all its strength, he slept into the glass coffin that had kept him alive during his coma. It was wired to make him back into his body's original state.

Despite all this, though, John Rykes was still able to think while processing everything that happened on "John Reese"'s end. Rather than to retire him, the Agency had thought it interesting to put him on desk duty, to deal with another side of their communications with the newly found source of intel that Terence Beale was now supervising.

Then Ordos had happened, and "John Reese" had survived, despite Control's efforts. The CIA had thought it was time to investigate more actively the real nature of their source of intel. John Rykes had been put on the case.

Which hadn't been easy, considering the ISA was doing its best to keep it under wrap. Which had become worse, when John had learned of Jessica Arndt's death. Which hadn't been helped, when "John Reese" had started his long fall into the alcoholic hell of despair.

John Rykes might still have access to his second self's mind, but he had no control over it. He totally understood why the fallen operative was breaking himself apart like that, moreover, because essentialy they were the same, even if they were separate in bodies. John Rykes too had trouble dealing with the news, and having "Reese"'s suicidal thoughts in his head on top of his own wasn't easy at all.

He had almost been thrown out of the investigation, when "John Reese" had been recruited by Harold Finch.

That was when the CIA had truly learned about the Machine. Rykes had then been tasked with evaluating whether or not this particular secret was a danger. Soon enough, they had learned that even Control had no control over the Machine, and while the closed system might be frustrating, the CIA still liked it better that way. There was nothing an intelligence agency liked less than to be observed by its rivals.

Of course, they couldn't go and tell everybody that they knew about the Machine. Only a very few people within the Agency ever heard of it, and John Rykes was given all authority on the subject. He was, after all, one of the Machine's assets. And there was no asking whether or not the IA knew about his dual identity. She was, after all, watching them all.

If the Machine didn't disapprove of Rykes' role, it pretty much meant she did approve.

The last years had been hard on the man, though.

At first, it was only making sure that Mark Snow wouldn't see him alive and in a wheelchair in Langley while the man was tracking him in New York. Then it had been Agent Donnelly from the FBI. Then Kara had come back from the dead too, and Rykes had wondered what would happen to him if "Reese" did explode thanks to her.

"John Reese" had enough to deal with being the Man in a Suit. But John Rykes had even more to deal with, as he tried very hard not to intervene when someone who was supposedly on his side, on the side of the government, tried to get to his other self. It wasn't as if he had a non-confidential, credible-enough answer if Rykes and Reese stumbled together right in front of the others.

And that, that was when things were still quite tame.

Vigilance and Greer had been worse. Then, he had needed to work with Beale and send teams to try and impede their progress without being spotted. Nevertheless, Samaritan had eventually come to be.

The Samaritan era had been the worse, obviously. He didn't know who within the Agency was working for Samaritan, and the only certainty he had was that the Machine was somehow protecting him, just like she was protecting his other self, because Samaritan never found out about John Rykes and "John Riley".

And now, "John Reese" was dead, and apparently he hadn't only been erased, but his mind had fused back with John Rykes'. And now, John Rykes had Root's consciousness uploaded in his computer, waiting for her body to be restored to a viable state. And now, he apparently was to be the liaison agent between the CIA and the Machine.

The only good point in all that was that the Machine had told to Root that she was alright with it, as long as he was the only one to know the extent of her operations. John'd have access, through Analog Interface, to all of the Machine's operatives, but he was the only one in the CIA who got to know that. If the Agency wanted to know more, they'd need to search for themselves.

Because John Rykes was as much an operative of the Machine as he was a CIA agent.

He went back to his seat, and stared at the screen of his computer, where Root was glaring at him.

"I suppose that means we just started another intelligence agency without even meaning to..."