Part 4
Once he left the room, Ashlyn shifted so she could look over at the billionaire and quietly asked, "He called you Harold, and I know the name my mom gave me for him is John, but that's all I know."
Realizing that they'd dragged an injured, terrified child with them without ever actually identifying themselves was a nasty revelation to the man and one he knew needed rectified immediately, "My name is Harold Finch and your father, John Reese, started out as my employee and over the last year has become not only my colleague but my friend as well." He could hear said partner digging around in the other room, "He doesn't want to start this relationship with you off with lies, and neither do I. However, there are some things that I'm not sure you need to be told just yet about certain things." Seeing her look of fear, he hastened to reassure her, "Nothing serious, I promise you. I simply want to have the chance to talk with John about when and how to tell you things. You're obviously a highly intelligent young lady but I don't want to overload you with history while you're trying to start a new life."
Ashlyn nodded faintly, "I understand what you're telling me and I will try to be patient while we figure this whole thing out."
At that point, Reese returned with menus in hand which he passed out; he also had a small pad of paper and pen he'd pulled out from his suit coat pocket to write orders down. Seating himself again on the coffee table, he quickly jotted down a couple of things for himself before looking over at Finch who was giving him a hostile stare.
"What did I do now, Harold?"
"You do know that you are seated on my table, don't you, Mr. Reese?"
"Yes, Harold, I do know that I'm seated on the table. Why?"
"Coffee tables are meant to be used to put things, such as knickknacks, coasters, drinks, occasionally food, objects of that nature."
"And?"
"Your hindquarters do not fall into any of the aforementioned items, Mr. Reese. I have chairs, why don't you avail yourself with one of them?"
"Two reasons, Harold. One, the chairs are further away from my daughter than I really want to be right at this moment." The girl flushed shyly at the affectionate smile he sent her. "And two, this annoys the crap out of you, so it's an added bonus."
Finch glowered at his friend, "If I were in any better shape at the moment, I'd throw something at you, John. You know this, right?"
"Yes, Harold. Now, what would you like to order?"
"Crab Rangoon, two shrimp eggrolls, and beef with broccoli, please."
"Got it. Ashlyn, what sounds good to you?"
"Could I have egg drop soup and some plain fried rice, please?"
Both men studied her silently for several moments until she began to squirm a bit. Finally Harold quietly stated, "Money is not an object, Ashlyn; if there is something more you'd like to have, don't feel that you have to be concerned about it."
John agreed, "You're much too thin as it is; your current weight is well below what it should be."
She sighed, "I know I'm thin for my height and age, but I haven't had much opportunity to eat anything extra between my step-father and uncle. As long as I didn't appear anorexic, in their opinion, I was healthy enough to get by and not tarnish the family image on the rare occasions I was allowed to be in public."
Looking over at his partner, Finch grumbled, "Feed her."
Without taking his deep blue eyes from the girl, John's soft gravelly voice replied, "I plan on it."
The girl held out her hands in a placating manner, "I will eat, I promise, but I just can't today."
"Why?" Harold demanded.
She grazed one hand lightly over her bruised cheek and whispered, "Because it will hurt to chew and I'm a little nauseous still." She hated admitting weakness, especially in front of this big, powerful man who was her father, and struggled to prevent the tears that were welling up in her eyes from falling.
When she failed and several tears slipped down her face, John reacted on pure instinct. Moving from his position on the table, he dropped the menu, pen, and tablet he was holding and sat next to the teen on the couch, drawing her into his arms. Careful of her injuries, he tenderly pressed her head to his chest and began stroking one hand over her long hair. Lowering his head until his chin rested lightly on her hair, the big, bad, scary military man began murmuring soft words of reassurance and comfort in that quiet raspy voice that soothed her.
Thinking back to all the times she'd been afraid of something or someone, and how every time she'd had to just be strong or sit and cry alone in her room, Ashlyn realized that she was no longer on her own. She'd barely met the man, knew only that he was her father, had proposed to her mother, had been in the military, and now worked for Harold Finch doing…something…but she trusted him. She knew in her heart that he would be there to protect her, shelter her, shield her from the world. If someone tried to hurt her, she had no doubt that they would pay for it with serious injuries if not outright death. She was scared to death of him still, but part of her craved this touch, this gentle reassurance if his presence and care.
Somewhere in the back of her mind came her mother's voice, 'If he ever finds you, or if you ever find him, your father will stop at nothing to see to your safety; and he will love you. Oh, baby girl, you have no idea how much he will love you!"
Ashlyn didn't think it was possible to feel this kind of attachment already to a man she'd barely met, but with her mother's words echoing in her thoughts she gave herself over to his care for the moment and let the tears flow.
Both men were relieved when the teen finally broke down and cried. This was a catharsis she desperately needed in order to move on with her new life. Knowing John would be occupied for a bit, Harold rose cautiously, ignoring his friend's glare for moving when he should be resting, and picked up the paper with a questioning look. Reese barely shook his head, indicating he had already written down what he wanted and there was nothing further, so the billionaire limped out of the room to place the order and return the menus to their drawer.
When he returned, Ashlyn was still being cradled in her father's strong arms, but her sobbing had faded to an occasional hitch and she no longer had her face buried in his chest. Grabbing a couple of tissues, he slowly held them out to the girl who was watching him from her protected position. He smiled, pleased, when she took them with a whispered thank you.
"If the two of you would like to change into more comfortable clothing, there are two bedrooms at the top of the stairs on the left for you. My room is on the other side and each one has its own bathroom."
"I didn't think to bring any extra clothes when we left this morning," John admitted as he gradually released his daughter.
"I took the liberty of taking your 'go-bag' from the office and placing it in the trunk before we left," Harold assured him.
Thanking his friend, John rose, easily lifting the girl to a standing position as he did so and steadying her when she tottered a bit. After blinking a few times to get her vision to settle and taking a couple of deep breaths to quell the bit of nausea, Ashlyn was able to accompany her father to the stairs where he picked up both of her suitcases, his own bag, and gestured for her to go first.
Reaching the top, she turned left and found two open doors before them so she looked to John to decide which he wanted. Poking his head into each room briefly, he nodded to one, "This one, if you don't mind. I like having an escape route and this one has it. Something I can't get over from my days in the military."
She didn't argue and stepped into what was to be her room while they were staying here. Painted a tasteful shade of soft grey, the two windows were hung with dark grey drapes and white sheers what matched the queen sized bed's comforter and dust ruffle. Mahogany wood made up the bed frame, dresser, chest of drawers, and desk while sliding doors revealed a big walk in closest. In the opposite corner from the door was the bathroom, painted to match, with a standing shower and a tub she thought she might be able to swim in, it was so big. Sitting on top of the chest was a large television complete with a DVD player, while on a table next to the bed was a radio/simulated sound maker that could be used to help one fall asleep.
Her father set her things carefully on the bench at the foot of the bed, "We're in for the night, so feel free to change into whatever you're most comfortable wearing. I plan on taking you shopping for clothes as soon as you're recovered enough to do so."
"Alright. Thank you," she said timidly. He flashed her a warm smile and stepped out, closing the door behind him. She waited a moment before creeping over to the door and testing the handle, relieved when it turned easily in her hand. Ashlyn couldn't help the wariness, she'd lived in fear for far too long to be completely trusting of a man she'd just met, but she was also feeling more and more optimistic as things progressed.
Opening her suitcases, she pulled out a pair of knee length shorts and a loose fitting tank top before carefully arranging her things into a couple of drawers. Taking off her dirty clothes, she changed into her chosen attire and pulled off her shoes. She preferred to go barefoot, but not everyone liked that in their home, so she put on clean footies before getting her brush out and drawing it gingerly through her long hair after taking the scrunchie out. Her hair was her one true vanity. Jessica had told her often enough that she was a beautiful girl, but Ashlyn just didn't see it other than her thick heavy mane of hair and unusual eyes.
Putting her toiletries in the bathroom, she glanced at her bruised cheek momentarily in the mirror, making a face at the dark hand print that stood out lividly on her creamy skin. Opening the closet, Ashlyn hefted her now empty luggage and set them neatly inside before returning to the bed and running her hand admiringly over the silken comforter. She looked at the radio closely to see what sounds it offered and was surprised at the selection. The sound of a door opening downstairs and voices drifting up alerted her that dinner must have arrived, but she waited. She hadn't been told to come down after she was done, and she didn't want to just assume anything.
A tap on her door made her jump before she hurried over to open it. She'd made the mistake once when she'd been sick with pneumonia to just tell her step-father to come in and he'd taken a belt to her backside with the admonishment that she was to always come to the door and not make people open it themselves. Ashlyn was surprised to find her father standing there, no longer dressed in his suit, wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and running shoes. Somehow, she hadn't been able to imagine him in anything but the dress shirt and matching coat and pants; either way, she'd been blessed with a handsome man for her new parent and she could see why her mother had fallen for him.
"You settled in?"
She nodded slightly, "Yes, sir."
Wincing as he led the way back down the steps, he asked, "How about you call me 'John' until you find something you're more comfortable with? 'Sir' makes me feel much older than I am and reminds me too much of when I was on active duty."
"Alright," Ashlyn agreed, "but what do I call your associate?"
"Harold will be fine," came the response from said associate who was standing at the kitchen table already pulling things out of a paper bag.
John pulled out a chair for his daughter and once she was seated, he opened the fridge to see what was in it to drink. Finding bottled water and orange juice, he poured her a glass of juice and got a bottle for himself and Finch and placed everything on the table.
The brown haired man positioned a large container of soup, a paper plate of plain fried rice, and a plastic bowl of scallops in garlic sauce in front of her, "Everything there should be sufficiently soft for you to chew without causing further pain." When she opened her mouth to protest the amount of food he stopped her with a quiet comment, "Just eat what you can, the rest can be saved for tomorrow."
"Thank you," she responded softly.
John sat down across from her and eagerly opened his fried chicken wings, wonton soup, and sweet and sour shrimp while Harold lowered himself stiffly to his chair to begin eating. The girl was careful to chew only on the left side so she didn't cause herself more pain by trying to use the right.
As she was finishing, John reached over and placed two mild pain pills in front of her, "It's been long enough that you can have these. I have something stronger for you when you're ready to go to bed if you want them."
Ashlyn thanked him as she gulped them down with the last swallow of juice and both men smiled when they saw that she'd eaten most of her dinner despite her fears she wouldn't be able to. Clean up was easy since everything was plastic and simply tossed in the trash so John did the honors while Harold finished eating and threw his own away.
"Would you like to go back to the living room and talk?" John asked the teenager. When she nodded, everyone trooped back in, Harold taking his previous seat so he could prop his leg up, Ashlyn curled up in one corner of the couch, and John sat on the opposite end, closest to the chair his friend was in so the girl could face them both.
Finch, who had also changed clothes to a pair of pants and a polo shirt, absently rubbed his leg as he addressed the child, "John and I spoke briefly before dinner arrived and we've agreed to tell you as much as we can concerning what we do and why. We both know that you are extremely bright and can understand what we're about to tell you. That being said, you also must understand that this conversation can never go any further than the three of us as it could potentially put not only our lives at stake, but yours and countless others, too."
Looking back and forth between the two men, she finally ventured to ask, "Do you work for the government?"
"No," John shook his head. "What we do is outside the parameters the government sets. Do you understand what we're asking of you? Can you keep this secret?"
"I've been keeping secrets all my life; I don't think one more will be a problem," she assured him.
Nodding to Finch to continue, John allowed his colleague to tell Ashlyn about the invention of the machine, the decision to use it to help others, their meeting and working together, the cultivation of Carter and Fusco from the police, and finally the discovery of her existence. She listened in complete silence through the entire story, absorbing everything she was being told and understanding what they meant by lives being in danger. If they were discovered, they would be branded traitors and disposed of quickly; plus all those people they had been helping would no longer have someone fighting for them and keeping them alive.
"So, I believe that's everything. Did you understand all that or do you have any questions?"
"I understand, and I realize the difference you make in the lives of others and how important it is." She briefly made eye contact with each man, "This is one secret I can keep without hesitation and thank you for trusting me with it."
John leaned forward a bit, "If you're going to be a part of my life, our lives, then you needed to know. I've had to live most of my life in the shadows without family or friends and I've come to realize how important they are to have. I lost your mother because I couldn't be open and honest with either her or myself; I won't lose you the same way. I can't promise to be perfect, but I can tell you that I will do everything in my power to never lie to you and I swear that I will never hurt you on purpose."
Pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, Ashlyn rested her chin on top and studied her father, "I promise that I will try to be open with you. I've spent most of my life in my bedroom or in the office in the basement where I studied and met with my teachers. I didn't get the chance to make friends or go out places because my step-father kept mom and me in the house as much as possible. My uncle would let me go up to the store, but never out with people because they might find out about the abuse and that would ruin his 'perfect family unit' image."
"Tell us about your studies," Harold coaxed. "I was fascinated when I saw your bio about graduating high school so young and that you have an eidetic memory."
She nodded, "Mom was excited about my memory at first, until she realized that it also meant I would never forget the things he did to both of us. The one thing he did do for me was arrange my schooling and bring in teachers from all over the country. He told them to make sure I had what I needed to satisfy the educational system and once that was done, I could branch out into whatever suited me."
"And what were your interests outside of the normal course of studies?" Harold queried.
A slight smile lifted the uninjured corner of her lips, "Anything and everything; but I really liked exploring languages and computer science."
John rolled his eyes and teased, "Wonderful, another computer geek to turn my brain to mush."
The other man snorted, "More than likely the two of you will drive me to distraction speaking in tongues."
She knew that Finch was into computers, having designed the machine that gave them the numbers, but she hadn't known that her father was into languages as well. Ashlyn leaned forward a bit eagerly, "What languages can you speak?"
"I'm fluent in Spanish, Arabic, Russian, and German with a smattering of French, Turkish, and Mandarin thrown in," John replied. "Which have you studied?"
"Spanish, Gaelic, and American Sign Language are my primaries. I'd love to learn Arabic, German, and Russian if you'll teach me," she said shyly.
"I'd be delighted, if you'll teach me some sign language and Gaelic in return."
Ice green eyes lit up with pleasure at having the opportunity to learn more of something she loved causing both men to gawk a bit in surprise at their stunning intensity. John could hardly wait to have his child healed and well-fed so he could see what she truly looked like. He listened quietly while the other two dissolved into 'geek-speak' about computers, musing over the subtle similarities between his daughter and her mother in certain gestures and expressions. When a certain question caught his attention, he snapped back into focus instantly.
"Could I, maybe, help with some of the computer side of things when you get numbers from your machine? I'm very good with computers and might be able to do some good."
The first instinct of both men was to immediately deny this request, but then, they each thought about it a bit further. Harold looked to John for the final decision; this was his offspring after all. The dark haired man took a deep breath, "I'm not sure right now, Ashlyn, but I'm not going to say no without thinking about it more. I prefer to keep you safely away from some of the people we deal with, though having you at the computers while Harold helps me some in the field could be beneficial. We'll talk more about it, all three of us, before making any firm decisions; is that fair?"
She was actually surprised that he hadn't just said no and left it at that. This was a man who had many different layers that needed to be peeled back one by one in order to get to know him. He made life and death decisions at the drop of a hat, but when he had the chance to think things through more, he took it, studied it, and then made his choice.
Ashlyn nodded in agreement, "Yes, it is, and thank you."
Glancing down at his watch, Finch realized it was getting late and he was not only sore, but very tired as well, "As much as I have enjoyed getting to know you, Ashlyn, I'm afraid that I must call it a night and find my bed." He shifted his leg to the floor and stiffly began to rise. When the leg buckled slightly, he lurched sideways, expecting to fall back into the chair, which he did not look forward to as it would jar his already aching back.
John was already on his feet, one strong arm locking around his friend's waist while his free hand caught Harold's forearm. Between height and strength, he was able to prevent the other man from taking a tumble and steadied him so he could get his leg to function properly. As soon as the billionaire was stable, John released him and stepped away, knowing the man hated it when his body betrayed him like that.
After taking a deep breath, Finch nodded to his friend in silent thanks and smiled over at the girl, "Good night, Ashlyn. I hope you sleep well."
"Good night…Harold…and thank you."
He hobbled, for lack of a better word, to the stairs and used the banister to drag his uncomfortable body up to his room. John listened closely until he heard the bedroom door click shut, then released a soft sigh and turned his attention back to the girl with a smile.
She cocked her head to one side, sending her long hair tumbling over her shoulder, "You watch over him as much as he'll allow, don't you?"
"Yes. I don't have many friends, living a solitary life will do that to you, and I count him as one of the very few I do have. He hasn't had an easy life and I worry when he overdoes it like today."
Ashlyn nodded. She could see that in the big man; he was already protective of her so she could easily imagine his loyalty to the person he'd worked with daily. She started to ask another question and was interrupted by a huge yawn. Horrified by her lack of manners and what his response to it might be, the teen clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at him.
Her father simply chuckled, "Looks like Harold's not the only one who's tired." He stood up and stepped away from her so she didn't feel crowded, "I'm beginning to feel my age, too, after a day like this one."
Unfolding her legs and pushing herself upright, Ashlyn was caught off-guard by the sudden spinning of the room. The pills at dinner had helped a great deal with pain, but she'd apparently moved faster than her brain and body could keep up. Instead of plummeting forward and into the table as expected, she fell against a hard chest and felt her father's arms wrap around her as he prevented a nasty fall. Closing her eyes despite the alarms ringing in her head at being too close to a strange person, especially a male, the young woman let her forehead rest on his sternum for a few moments and let the world slow down.
As soon as she lifted her head, John released her and stepped back, knowing he'd probably scared the crap out of her, "Are you alright?"
She pressed a hand lightly to her head, "Yes, sorry about that. I think I just stood up too fast and my brain took exception to it. Thank you for not letting me do a dive onto the coffee table. After you sat on it, I can only imagine what…Harold…would say if I took a header into it."
"I doubt he'd be as concerned about the table's well-being as he would be of yours." He went into the kitchen and when he returned, he had a cup of water and two bottles in his hands. He gave her the cup and held up the pills, "The usual or something stronger?"
"The usual, please," she stated. As much as she might want something more, Ashlyn was afraid what it might do to her system and wanted to be as alert as she could be through the night. Trust was hard to come by in her mind and while she was rapidly becoming more comfortable with the man, she still had that niggling fear that wouldn't let go.
He shook out two pills and handed them to her before disappearing back into the kitchen to put the second bottle away. He came back in quickly, "Take the water up with you. I'll wake you in four to six hours to check on you and give you some more pills."
That didn't necessarily reassure her to know he would be coming into her room, but he'd been doing everything he could to take care of her and make her comfortable that she really couldn't protest. She led the way again back up the stairs and paused outside the door to her room, "Good night, and thank you. For everything."
"Good night, sweetheart. If you need something, come get me." He gestured to his room, "Just open the door and call my name; I'm a very light sleeper so I'll hear you. Just…don't try to approach the bed unless I'm fully awake, please." He didn't want her to walk up to the bed and be greeted by a large, half-awake menace with a gun.
She nodded as she slipped into her room and softly shut the door. Ashlyn waited by the entrance to her room until she heard his close before she moved away, turned on the light beside the bed, grabbed some clothes, and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Closing the door, she flipped the lock despite knowing that if her father really wanted in for some reason, that wouldn't keep him out. She really didn't think that he would do anything, but she'd followed this same ritual since she was old enough to shower on her own. She turned the water on and stripped as it warmed up, adjusting the temperature until it was comfortable, and then stepped in to let the warmth flow over her.
Cautiously she lathered up her hair with a sweet smelling shampoo, rinsed it, and then used a light conditioner to help with tangles. When she finished bathing, Ashlyn pulled on another comfortable tank top and a pair of snug running shorts she preferred to sleep in. Drying her hair as thoroughly as she could with a thick towel, she ran a brush through it and braided it in a heavy plait to fall down her back. After listening at the door for a moment, she quietly turned the lock and opened it, finding her room the same as when she went in.
After a soft sigh of relief, the girl folded the silky comforter back and set it on the bench before crawling under the airy cotton sheet and light blanket that were left. She reached over and pulled the radio closer so she could see it better. After making sure the sound was turned way down, Ashlyn turned on the nature sounds and began exploring the different settings before settling on one. Turning off the light, the exhausted young woman fell asleep to the soothing sound of water lapping against the shoreline while an occasional loon called in the distance.
