Concerned Third Parties

"It's not that I mind having you all to myself." said Zoe Morgan. "I'm just wondering if you find life as my driver to be a little less high-octane than your usual employment."

Reese shrugged lightly. "It's not as exciting, I'll grant you. But there are... other compensations."

"Down, boy." Zoe admonished. "There's a long night ahead of us. I've got a meeting with a new player in town. I don't know much about him so... keep that Walther of yours handy, will you?"

"Always do." Reese nodded, turning the car into a side alley. "Where are you meeting him?"

"Drive slow down Oakley. There should be a man near the fifth lamppost wearing a french beret," directed Zoe. "Stop and let him in. After that, circle the block while we talk business. Let him out at the same point."

"Sounds mysterious."

"It's definitely a bit more... involved than most of my clients." Zoe grumbled. "But it's not a first. So long as I have a discreet driver, there's no danger in it."

Reese's brow knitted in thought. "Discreet I can do. But I don't see how my Walther is going to be much help if he's in the back seat with you and I'm driving up front."

"Brake really suddenly. Scumbags like that always forget their seatbelt," answered Zoe, tossing her hair. "Again, not a first. Anything else, I still have that taser."

Reese's mouth curved ever so slightly. "Now I almost want to see this guy try something."

"You would." Zoe's mouth curved in response. "You're a violent man, John Reese. You'd never be able to keep up a peaceful life."

"Look who's talking." Reese suddenly cocked his head up and to the right a bit. "That's the fifth lamppost, but I don't see... Ah..." At the approach of the car, a jacketed figure had stepped into the light, almost nonchalantly. Reese slowed the car to a stop, and the figure opened up the door to step inside.

"My driver nearly passed you by, Mr. Tripp." Zoe observed, as the dark-skinned man settled himself in the seat. "I thought you said you would be waiting at the lamppost."

Mr. Tripp gave an easy smile. He was a pleasant, dark-skinned man with close-cropped black hair and muttonchops, wearing a leather jacket. "Bright light gives me a headache, Ms. Morgan."

"And makes you visible from the street, while ruining your eyesight so you can't see anyone in the dark." Zoe smiled thinly. "I'm not an idiot, Mr. Tripp."

"Didn't mean to imply you were, ma'am." Tripp held up his hands. "But stating it like that makes it seem as though I don't trust you."

Zoe raised her eyebrows. "And do you trust me?

Tripp met her gaze evenly. "Yes ma'am, I do."

A sad smirk crossed Zoe's lips. "Then you're not going to last long in this business."

"A trusted source told me to trust you." Tripp shrugged. "At some point somewhere along the line, you have to rely on someone."

"And that gun in your jacket?"

Again Tripp smiled. "Makes me feel better. A security blanket."

Zoe shook her head, but there was a light tilt to her lips. "All right. Now what is the problem?"

Tripp sighed and leaned back in the car seat. "The world, ma'am. The world."

The smile became a bit more puzzled. "Philosophical, aren't we? Whatever your 'trusted source' told you, I'm afraid my scope ends outside New York."

"Oh, I think your reach extends further than that, Ms. Morgan." Tripp grinned. "New York is its own collection of nations. The whole world passes through New York, and things that happen here are felt all throughout the globe."

Zoe frowned. "I'm as much a New Yorker as anyone, but I think you're rather exaggerating the situation."

"Am I?" Tripp cocked an eyebrow. "Wasn't it just recently you had an alien invasion here?"

That made Zoe pause. "Well... yes. But last I checked, London had one of those too."

"Fair enough." The man chuckled. "But it began in New York, just as the War on Terror began in New York. Things... tend to happen here, Ms. Morgan. Wasn't Samaritan deployed in New York before being released to the world?"

Reese was suddenly listening to the conversation VERY closely.

Zoe didn't miss a beat. "I'm sorry, I 'm not sure... Samaritan?"

"Samaritan. You know? Big security system, watches us 24-7, keeps life in America safe for all except for the few whose life it keeps interesting?" Tripp smiled. "Like your driver, for instance."

Reese slammed on the brakes. Tripp tumbled to the floor, but he rolled with the movement, letting the momentum carry him around to press a gun into the back of Reese's seat.

"Don't." The metal prongs of a taser touched the back of Tripp's neck. "Not exactly polite, Mr. Tripp, to schedule an appointment with a lady when you're only interested in her driver."

"Momma always said I had bad manners." Trip's smile was still evident.

Reese, half twisted in his seat with a gun pointed at the back seat, was less jovial. "Who are you, and how do you know about Samaritan? Or me?"

"Nice as this floor is, I'd prefer to do my explaining while sitting up." Tripp answered. "And without a taser on my neck."

"I'd prefer you to talk without a gun to my driver's back." Zoe raised an eyebrow.

"Mm, I can respect that." Slowly, Tripp raised his gun from the seat back, then dropped it. "We cool? Can I sit up now?"

Zoe leaned over and picked up the gun, then sat back and pocketed her taser. "Very well."

Tripp got up from the floor and sat back in the seat. He eyed the gun Reese still had pointed at him. "Shouldn't you keep driving?"

"Given that apparently you're talking to me, seems I might as well look you in the eye while you're doing it." Reese indicated, not moving.

"I'm... not exactly a New York native," said Tripp, "but it seems if we stay stopped in the middle of the street for much longer, we're going to meet with either a cop or an accident. Perhaps you know a good place to park?"

Zoe rolled her eyes. "There's a structure over on Eighth, John."

"Fine." John pocketed his gun and turned around. "But you'd better have some answers ready when we get there."

"SHIELD." Reese repeated.

"Strategic Homeland Intervention and Espionage Logistics Division." Tripp nodded. "Not to be confused with Hydra, the super-secret Nazi science division worshiping a faceless guy with a severe case of eczema."

"Who?" Reese's face wrinkled.

"The Red Skull." Zoe still had Tripp's gun trained on him. "Honestly, John, didn't you learn history?"

"We're not evil, is what I'm saying." Tripp insisted. "We weren't part of Hydra, and we still believe in what everyone thought SHIELD stood for. Keeping the world safe."

"That's sweet, but technically that's what Hydra says they stand for too." Zoe smiled.

"And Decima." Reese interjected.

Tripp grinned. "And your Machine. There are different interpretations of what that means, I grant you, but that's why we're rebuilding it from the ground up. We want to do it right this time."

"And that means what?"

A shrug from Tripp. "Work in progress."

"You say you've been working with Finch and Shaw." Reese questioned. "If you were so eager to for me to trust you, why not send one of them?"

"Honestly, man, I asked my boss the same question." Tripp answered. "Got something to do with Samaritan... apparently bringing two of you primary-target people together, fake identities or not, is bound to attract Samaritan's attention. Plus, Operative Shaw is overseas at the moment, and Finch..." Tripp shrugged. "...you know what he's like."

"So what do you want me for, and why should I care?" Reese arched his eyebrows.

"The fact you're asking means you care already." Tripp gave a little smirk. "And it's not just you I came to see. I'm also here to talk to Ms. Morgan."

"Thanks," Zoe drawled. "I was starting to feel neglected."

"Here's the situation." Tripp leaned forward earnestly in his seat. "What I was talking before... it's true. New York attracts the crazy, more than ever since the invasion, when all sorts of alien debris got littered all over its streets. Already you're starting to see signs... super-powered bank robbers, strange urban rumors, curiously 'gifted' people."

"What are you talking about?" Reese narrowed his eyes.

Tripp nodded to Zoe, who had fallen curiously silent. "She knows."

In response to Reese's questioning gaze, Zoe tilted her head. "Over... the last year or so." She admitted. "It's been... there've been incidents... they seemed isolated at first, but there've been gradually more of them. Powerful, influential people wanting 'incidents' covered up where someone did something... unusual."

Reese blinked. "Zoe, that's 90% of what you do."

"These were different." Zoe shook her head. "The stories were crazy, wild... someone who shot lasers from their eyes, or walked straight through a brick wall or..." Zoe shrugged. "You remember the guy last month who wanted some news about his son covered up?"

"Yeah..." Reese nodded. "Washington, or Warton, or..."

"Worthington." Tripp answered. "Story about his son sprouting wings, wasn't it?"

Zoe's eyes narrowed. "I buried that story, and discredited anyone willing to testify to it."

"Let's say we're more credible than most people about these things." Tripp smiled. "Also we're working with a massive surveillance computer and three people VERY good at digging up buried secrets."

"You're saying these are part of a larger trend?" Zoe asked, brow knitted.

"Hey, I'm just the grunt soldier." Tripp spread his hands wide. "But a lot of folks smarter than I are pretty sure the world's about to go through some sort of developmental phase, and that's never pleasant for anyone."

"So you want me to sign up with SHIELD to help you deal with these 'gifted' people?" Reese looked very skeptical.

"Someone really hasn't been listening to me." mused Tripp. "No, I'm saying you—and Ms. Morgan here—are going to increasingly find yourselves in situations beyond what you can handle."

"Like what?"

Tripp shrugged. "Hell if I know. Mole men, invisible girls, giant ugly human arachnids; look, if I knew what the situations were, I wouldn't be meeting with you. The point is, we don't want you to do anything for us. What we want you to do is let us know when we can help you out. With... you know." Tripp gestured vaguely. "Mad scientist octopi or what-not."

"Watched a lot of B-movies as a kid, didn't you." Reese deadpanned.

"I can't help but realize that this keeps you from needing to establish a SHIELD cell here in New York." Zoe interjected. "That essentially, you're relying on us to keep an eye on the city and tell you where these 'gifted' people or these strange incidents are."

"No," grinned Tripp. "We're relying on you to take care of most of these gifted people and bizarre incidents on your own, because taking care of things is what you do."

Zoe snorted. "If someone pays me, sure. Boy scout over here is the one who does it for free."

"Don't sell yourself short, miss." Tripp was still grinning. "Look, if you want to consider yourselves part of a SHIELD surveillance cell that monitors New York and contains minor incidents, I'm sure the boss would have no problem with that. But if that idea bothers you, just think of us as a concerned third party... the panic number to dial when things get weird." He withdrew two cell phones and laid them on the seat. "Secure and untraceable. Keep us in the loop, and we'll keep you in the loop." Tripp snapped his fingers. "One more thing. The boss said to tell you—if you want, there's an old SHIELD safehouse in downtown Brooklyn, corner of Marsedale and 67th. Got an armory, listening station, lab... the works. Entrance code is 4920. It's yours if you need it."

Tripp turned to Zoe. "Can I have my gun back?"

Zoe ejected the magazine and ratcheted the single round out of the gun's chamber. "There you are." She said, handing it to him.

"Been a real pleasure, Ms. Morgan." Tripp smiled. He nodded to Reese. "Mr. Reese." He opened the door, and was gone.

For a moment Zoe and Reese sat in silence.

Finally Zoe breathed a sigh and picked up the phone.

"You're not taking him up on that, are you?" Reese eyed her askance.

"Traded favors with a lot of people, but an ex-government agency is a new one." Zoe answered, pocketing the device. "Could be useful to have in a pinch. Hope he's wrong about that rising trend, though." An exhausted look flashed through her eyes. "Those cover-ups are hell."

"Wonder if he made the same pitch to Harold." Reese mused.

"Probably." Zoe answered. "Information is your friend Harold's business." Rousing herself, she tossed the phone into the front seat. "Now. Start up the car. There's a banker over on Stinson Ave who wants me to handle some incriminating photos of his wife."

"Right." Reese started the car.

They'd been driving for five minutes when Reese noted: "You know... Marsedale is on the way to Stinson."

Zoe smiled and checked her phone. "I suppose we have time for a stop."

A/N: Small confession. I like the idea of Zoe/Reese, but not how the show's presented it. As in, I thought their first episode together was dynamite, but every interaction since strikes me as stilted and self-aware. They're just both being too cool and too collected, and I have a hard time feeling the romance. Not sure if this brought that back, but eh.

Debated between giving this section to Coulson or to Tripp. Went with Tripp because I wanted to keep things mixed up, and also because he seemed to have the right mixture of deadly and dashing for this chapter. Though it's hard to say... the show hasn't used him very much.

This is more or less the end, which makes me a little sad-I wanted to include Fusco, who I feel is sadly unappreciated, and maybe reference Leon. But I do have one more chapter, that I'm pretty excited about. It serves as something of an epilogue.