Harold Finch would happily concede that he was a worrier. He could be single-minded, he was not easy to live with and he found trust almost impossible. Until a big ex-soldier and former CIA-operator came into his life, and Harold found all his boundaries challenged.
Some he minded, but the surprise to him was how many of his boundaries Harold was prepared… no HAPPY, for John Reese to violate. After all, it seemed only fair. Harold had given John a job, a job which put John's life at risk most days of the week. John had been shot and beaten up working for Harold. Yet his loyalty never faltered.
When Harold needed him, even though he should not have been, John was there. He said it was because he was returning the favor. But they both knew the truth, they had come to depend on each other, need each other and that was that.
Now Harold had gone and thrust John, and Zoe Morgan, into a situation made worse by their obvious attraction to each other. Harold cursed how he could have been so blind, cursed his willful obtuseness that had put John and Zoe's lives in danger. Never mind professionalism, he didn't care about that, he just wanted both of them back safely.
No word for over an hour. John was a man you could set a watch by, and even though Finch never trusted hunches, the concept of which belonged in detective novels and not the real world, he trusted John and John's finely tuned instincts.
Finch did not waste time in waiting around to see what would happen. He called Carter and Fusco.
When the call came in, Finch's news set Carter's alarm bells ringing. The file on her desk, evidence of a crime but no body in the case of Miss Jeanne Lewis. Jeanne, attractive, recently divorced, mid forties, had disappeared sometime before she was due to leave on vacation.
Carter jumped to her feet, picked up her keys, and practically grabbed Fusco as he was headed back to his desk.
"What gives?" Fusco had been looking forward to that donut, he hated night shift.
"John's in trouble."
"I thought wonderboy was the trouble."
Carter gave him the hard stare. "I think this time he's in the kind of trouble that he won't be able to get out of on his own."
Fusco swallowed. He found it difficult to imagine a situation that Reese wouldn't be able to get out of on his own. Fusco's own introduction to John Reese was having a beaten and handcuffed man in the backseat of a police cruiser who managed to conceal a gas grenade and then shoot Fusco in the back of his vest after he crashed the car from the backseat.
Finch met them there. Fidgety with worry, Bear pacing restlessly beside him.
When even the dog was worried, Fusco changed his mind.
John's wrists were both bleeding, the pain from the cuts he was inflicting on himself was making his hands tremble, but finally the ropes were parting. "Back to back" he muttered as the ropes parted and his hands were free. He inched over on his other side and fumbled for Zoe's wrists. Slowly he worked at the knots until the ropes slid free. "Slide down." He said.
Zoe moved down, felt his fingers stiffly working at the knots which held her elbows in the tight inescapably painful grip. She gasped as the rope loosened and her elbows flopped free. Her shoulders and back ached like hell, but Zoe rolled over and attacked the ropes holding John's elbows back.
It was a struggle, but finally she managed it, his groan of pain startled her. "John?" Zoe dug in the pocket of her pencil skirt for the tiny little emergency key lock light that she kept handy. Squeezed it to illuminate less than half the space they were trapped in, but the light was enough to see what John had done to himself to get them free.
"Oh god… John!" The light went out as Zoe reached out to take his trembling hands in hers. His blood was slick beneath her fingers, his skin was chilled too and she started to shiver herself. Her thin sweater and skirt were hardly warm clothing.
"It's nothing." She might even have believed him if her hand had not brushed up against the nasty gash on the back of his right wrist, the quiet hiss of pain when she did said otherwise.
"It's not nothing, John."
It took him two attempts to reply, which was when she realized that the temperature had dipped. "Damn, it's cold in here."
She shivered, he put his arms around her then and pulled her close. Zoe burrowed into him. Perhaps shared bodily warmth, what little they had left, would keep them going.
The funeral home was as bad as John and Zoe had mentioned. Carter and Finch entered, Fusco suddenly found that he really preferred being on the outside, even though it was cold and the rain was now coming down in earnest.
It was Bear who found their first lead, Finch let him off the leash, and the dog dived away with a whimper, "Bear…" Finch limped after the errant canine, and stopped short. Bear was coming back, Reese's jacket in his jaws, he paused and sat in front of Finch. "This isn't good." Finch took the jacket from Bear's jaws, some random corner of his mind processed that it was a cold and wet night, that Reese would hardly be out there in just his shirt.
Carter visibly paled at the sight. Until then she had wanted to believe Fusco that John could never be in this much trouble in the suburbs. Now proof that something had gone very wrong was right in front of her.
It was getting colder, they clung to each other as water dripped down the tube into their terrifying prison. They had already tried everything they could think of to break out, but the weight of the earth above them was just too much.
John wrapped his arms around Zoe and pressed her as tightly to his body as he could manage. She buried her face in his neck and pressed herself tightly against him, bent her knees so that she could get a knee between his.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"What for?"
"Getting you into this."
"John, I'm a big girl. I chose to get into this." She pressed her lips to his.
He returned her kiss, with interest. It was so cold that their teeth were chattering, but she still managed to tease him when they broke apart. "Some day you are going to have to make good on your innuendoes."
He closed his eyes then, silently praying that they would get the opportunity, that Finch and Carter would find them. That if it was too late, he would go in the ground under his real name. That Harold Finch would know that he was the only real friend that John had ever had, and that Harold should go to his Grace and hold her and never let her go again. Because love was worth fighting for.
