Part Seven

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The evening passed in a fog as Carter tried to go through the motions of making dinner and doing some laundry and listening with half an ear to Taylor, who'd decided to come home from his grandmother's after all, discuss his plans for the weekend. She wanted to snap out of it and listen, if only to convince him that she really did believe she'd get John back somehow.

Unfortunately, storming a prison and stealing a prisoner in federal custody was John's area of expertise. She'd always been the brains, the talker, the one who could convince a suspect to offer up every piece of information he had. John was the brawn, able to exert his will on everyone without even needing to speak. There was no chance in hell that she would be able to put together any kind of assault to free John, not with Finch and Fusco as her only backup. She wondered if John was allowed a phone call; if only he could plan it out and tell her what to do.

As she lay in bed, she stared at the ceiling, wishing there was a chance for John to pick the lock and sneak in on her again. Instead, she knew she'd stay there all night, thinking about John and if he was lying on an uncomfortable cot in an uncomfortable cell, staring at the ceiling and hoping someone was coming for him.

At some point she realized he wouldn't be hoping that. He wouldn't expect anyone to come for him. He'd asked Finch to watch out for her. He'd said the best he could do was to go down alone, protecting his friends by pretending he had none. Part of her suspected that he truly believed it, that he thought he was on his own with no expectation of loyalty.

The dark sky started to lighten in the pre-dawn hours and she rolled onto her side to watch as another new day started. Another new day in this new life without John. As complicated as they had been, she much preferred the earlier days, when it was rare to go more than a day without hearing from him.

Her thoughts kept returning to their frantic time in the warehouse, her mind searching for some sign, some hint, some something that she'd missed that would have offered them an escape from this new hell.

And somehow, in all the upset and fear and pain and loneliness, she'd almost forgotten.

Her heart skipped a beat when she suddenly remembered that one beautiful moment in the whole fucking nightmare. How had she forgotten the sweet, hesitant way his mouth had captured hers? The horrific situation had distracted her, the adrenaline rush had sustained her, her fight to protect John had pushed everything else to the back of her mind. Now that she had the quiet time to remember it, she wondered how she'd managed to function, to even think about anything besides that kiss.

It had been totally innocent, gentle and sweet and chaste.

And somehow, hotter than any other she'd ever had.

Though the circumstances had been horrible, she knew she would cherish that memory. She'd cared about John for a long time. She'd worried about him and helped him and protected him. She'd called him a friend. But the moment he'd taken her hand in that warehouse, the moment he'd looked into her eyes, the moment he'd touched her face, the moment he'd kissed her - those had brought the truth to the surface.

Perhaps that was part of why she'd been so frantic in her attempts to save him. Because she'd just realized that there was something so much more than she'd ever expected between them and she was being robbed of it. It was being stolen from them before they had a chance to explore it. She'd had so much loss and sadness in her life; she deserved something good. She knew John did too.

She recalled the way she'd hugged him afterwards, the way he'd held her. If - no, she corrected - when she got him back, she was going to hug him so hard and so long he'd have to beg for mercy. And then she was going to kiss him. Maybe forever.

Unconcerned with the early hour, Carter got up and headed for the living room. Finch's card was lying on the coffee table where she'd left it. She snorted when she thought about how convinced she'd been that she wouldn't use it. Less than twenty-four hours later found her pressing the digits into her phone.

He answered on the first ring. "Detective, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."

"I need to talk to you. Where do you want to meet?"

He gave her an address for a coffee shop. "I'd tell you to make sure you're not followed, but Mr. Reese was always impressed with your abilities so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt in that regard."

"And yet you felt the need to mention it." She might not like the man, but John did. And she'd certainly need his help to get John back. "I'll be there in a half hour."

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When Carter arrived at the small coffee shop, Finch was on the phone. He had a laptop open in front of him, a small pile of papers on the table, and a phone to his ear. He saw her and held up a finger to indicate that she should wait. She bought herself a coffee and dumped way too much sugar in it while she waited.

He finally put the phone down and offered his version of a smile. "I'm so glad you called." He pulled a photograph from among the papers. "This is Lindsay Norton, a twenty-seven year old part time home health aide. I need you to follow her, find out who might want to kill her," he paused and shook the photo that she hadn't accepted, then continued. "Or who might be her target, and stop whatever is about to happen."

She stared alternately at the picture of a perfect normal looking woman and Finch. "You what?"

"I'm afraid Mr. Reese is not available. You've resigned from the NYPD and therefore have some free time." He suddenly broke into a smile. "You'll be compensated, of course, much more fairly than as a city employee, I might add."

Choking on her coffee, she narrowed her eyes. "You're hiring me?" And then the concept sank in and she raised her voice. "To replace John?"

Finch was indifferent to the loud, angry tone. "I understand that this is hardly an ideal situation. Mr. Reese would be nearly impossible to replace with his skill set. While you wouldn't necessarily be my first choice, you do know what it is we do and are currently unemployed."

She grabbed the picture simply to stop him from holding it out to her, slapping it down on his papers. "I'm not here for a career change. I'm here because I want to get John back." She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. "It seems to me that you and Ms. Norton would benefit from making that happen."

"Believe me," he said as he smiled uncomfortably. "No one would benefit from Mr. Reese's return more than I."

"Not true."

"Detective-"

"I quit, you'll have to come up with something else to call me." When Finch's eyes moved to his laptop, she reached over and closed the top. "When you were missing, John didn't run out and look for someone to replace you. No, he raced around trying to find you and dragged my ass all the way to Texas to help him."

Annoyance flickered across his face. "I assure you, your involvement with the case was not a matter of finding me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Mr. Reese has been determined to include you in our work for some time. Though perhaps my absence encouraged him to be slightly more direct."

She tried to process what Finch was telling her, but it didn't compute. If she'd only become aware of John's possible feelings for her when he kissed her, how could Finch already know? For a moment, she considered the idea of John and Finch sitting down and discussing what he should do about pursuing her. It almost made her laugh.

She shook her head and decided any relationship that she may or may not develop with John was not up for discussion with Finch. "I'm not interested in a job. I'm interested in helping John get free and you're going to help me."

Finch's phone buzzed and he answered it, completely ignoring Carter. "Yes…very good…Monday…payment upon confirmation…thank you." He set the phone down and smiled. "I'm sorry, what were you were saying?"

"John called you a friend. Is he just an employee to you?"

Lifting his briefcase to his lap, Finch placed his computer in it as well as some of the papers. Then he looked back at her. "I made a promise to Mr. Reese that I intend to keep regarding your safety. Any misguided attempt on your part to rescue him will most certainly result in his being rather disappointed in me." He pushed the papers toward her, the photograph on top. "On the other hand, Mr. Reese would be very happy to hear that you were lending me a hand in maintaining the work he's devoted himself to, the very work that has resulted in his incarceration."

She wanted to claim that Finch was just protecting himself, but she knew he was telling the truth. John was trying to redeem himself for something, real or imagined, and protecting these people was important enough for him to risk his life day after day. Whatever Finch's faults were, John liked him. John trusted him. John would expect her to help him. Sighing, she glanced at the picture again. "How long before whatever it is happens?"

Finch shrugged. "Sometimes a few days, sometimes a few hours."

"Great." She was doing it for John, she reminded herself. Anything for John. "And then we'll work on helping John, right?"

"Believe me, I'm doing everything I can." He stood up and dropped a set of keys on the stack. "I realize you don't have access to your police vehicle anymore. My car is around the corner. Everything else you'll need is in there, including a credit card for any expenses you might incur. I'll be in touch." Pausing after a few steps he looked back. "Do be careful, I believe Mr. Reese would be rather angry with me if you are injured in any way, Ms. Carter."

She glared at him and muttered, "I think I preferred Detective."

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She didn't even know why she was doing it. Maybe because she wanted to impress John when he came back. Maybe because she knew Finch had enough dirt on her to get her locked up along with John. Maybe because otherwise she was facing a day of sitting in her apartment, staring at the walls, and thinking about the horrible situation.

Instead she was sitting in the leather seat of a fully loaded luxury car watching a woman chasing her two toddlers around a playground. On the passenger seat, she'd found binoculars and a fancy camera with a zoom lens so strong she could read Norton's book over the woman's shoulder if she was so inclined. She was putting off calling Fusco to ask him to run down any information he could get on the woman. In fact, she was kind of hoping she could talk Finch into calling her ex-partner. She wasn't in the mood to talk to him; she wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone.

Perhaps filling in for John was a good thing then. She could sit alone in a car and not have to deal with anyone.

Her phone chirped at her. She'd only had it for a few days and hadn't bothered to do anything with it besides make phone calls. It was disposable, after all, so there was little point in personalizing it. Despite her lack of attention to it, an app had appeared on the home screen. A moment later, a message from Finch popped up, instructing her to get within a few feet of Norton's phone before opening the app he'd installed. Wondering what the hell it would do and knowing she wouldn't like it, she replied back with so when do I get my fancy little ear piece? Finch didn't answer.

When the kids were done playing, Carter followed Norton into a market, getting behind her in line and pressing the button on her phone. That she was dismayed was an understatement as the phone display revealed that she'd just tapped into Norton's phone. For a moment, she thought about how much trouble she'd get in without having a warrant, but that only lasted until she remembered she wasn't a cop anymore. Of course, wiretap was hardly legal for private citizens.

And then the realization that John and Finch had certainly used the same method of spying on her in the past nearly made her homicidal. John was paying for his sins, but when her phone buzzed with Finch's number, she remembered hating the man.

"Did you use this on my phone? Did you spy on me?"

"It was only to prevent your murder, Ms. Carter." His voice revealed no hint of deception, but she was willing to bet Finch was as good a liar as John was.

"You and I need to talk about boundaries," she hissed, hurrying though the purchase of a pack of gum so she could follow Norton out of the store. "And it's Carter. Or Jos. Quit it with the Ms. already, I'm nobody's grandma."

After spending the entire day watching Norton run errands and listening to a Spongebob marathon, Carter found herself wondering how the hell John did it. The most interesting thing that happened was when one of her clients called to report that he was out of his medicine, something Norton promised to remedy first thing Monday morning when she came by. No wonder he was always ready to take on twenty armed men. Anything to break up the monotony of standing by while someone else lived their life.

Norton had finished the dishes and was corralling her kids into the tub when Finch sent her a message. "Probably safe to leave her for the night," it read.

Irritated that she'd wasted an entire day on nothing while John remained locked up, she started the car and headed home.