I'm so, so sorry it took me so long to update guys, especially with the way last chapter ended but my lovely beta PJTL156 had some issues with her computer and was unable to check this chapter out for me. I have over 1,000 words of the next chapter already written, so unless something really serious keeps me from finish it in the next few days, or my beta's computer give her more problems, the chapter will be posted soon. Thank you all for your patience!

Same disclaimer as chapter 1, with a super huge thanks to PJTL156 for the beta.

OoOoO

Chapter XI: A Voice in the Dark.

"John," Finch whispers barely audible, his voice caught in his throat.

Finch could hear him inhale a surprised, sharp breath at the other end of the line.

"Finch," Reese murmured, a touch of relief evident in his voice.

Finch thought he heard a muffled voice in the background talking. Reese didn't reply to whoever it was and when he spoke again he sounded more like himself.

"Are you okay, Finch? Where are you?"

"I'm... I'm not hurt," Finch settled for an answer after a moment, knowing that was the essential thing for Reese to know. He knew the ex-operative would notice the clear avoidance in his words, but he frankly couldn't force himself to say he was okay.

Finch's brow furrowed as soon as his lethargic brain took into consideration the second question. He had no idea where he was, but he could have asked the cook before he left. Why didn't he? What was the point of calling Reese if he couldn't even tell him where he was?

"Finch?"

The billionaire shook his head, trying to clear his mind. "I'm here, I... I don't know where I am." Finch rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I'm at a diner at the side of the road, but I don't know where. She, uh, she took my glasses and I- I couldn't see where she was driving. I'm sorry."

"That's okay, Harold," Reese's smooth voice reassured him, and Finch heard what he thought were rushed footsteps in the background. "Where is she?"

Finch's eyes immediately shot back to the door, alert. After he was sure there was no one there, he let out a relieved sigh.

"She's outside. I'm in the bathroom."

Reese didn't say anything for a second, and Finch could almost picture him; his brows into a frown of deep thought, eyes hard, thinking, considering every option.

"Do you have any idea how long you traveled?"

"About two hours, I think. East." Finch answered immediately, knowing he couldn't afford to waste even a second.

Finch hear Reese repeat East muffled, before the man's voice returned to the phone. "Harold... I found your pocket square."

Finch squeezed his eyes shut, tightening his grip on the phone. He didn't know what to say, what to think. While he had hoped, wished, Reese found the place, even after Root took him out of there, it was entirely different knowing he did it as a fact.

The tumult of emotions raging inside made him feel light-headed, and he could feel his heart beating almost painfully fast against his chest.

Finch was pleased, because now he's fully certain Reese was looking for him, and in the right place. But then there was a feeling of bitterness clouding it, because if he had delayed their departure, if he had done something, anything, that would have retained them more time in that place, he would have allowed Reese the time for get there, and he would have found them.

He would be safe- safe and away from her. Free.

Finch bit his lip, trying to stop a sound threatening to escape from his throat. A cry? A gasp? He was not sure. The only thing he knew was that he was not going to let it out.

There was a small part of his brain whispering that if Root knew there was a possibility Reese could find them, it wouldn't have mattered. Anything he tried would have failed. She would have gotten him out of there, anyway. But Finch plainly ignored that at the moment.

Finch heard Reese distantly calling his name, so he took a shaking breath and forced his eyes open.

"I knew you would find it." He whispered softly.

There were a dozen questions hovering in his head. He wanted nothing more than to ask Reese each one of them, and not stop until he knew everything, but he didn't have the time. He had to get out of there and back to Root before she suspected something, if she doesn't suspect it already.

"I have to go."

Subconsciously his grip on the phone tightened. That was the last thing he wanted to do: break the fragile connection he had been able to establish with Reese after all this time; taking away the reassuring, calming sound of Reese's voice in his ear.

Dimly, Finch wondered if Reese had ever felt that way too. Maybe.

"Wait." Reese called with an almost commanding tone, distracting Finch from his current line of thought. "I'm going to find you, Finch."

There wasn't even the slightest wave in Reese's smooth, deep voice. Finch knows that voice. It was the same one Reese used with the people they tried to help -the Numbers- when he promised he would protect them, that they would be okay, except... Finch was not sure if he's imagining it or its really there, but he perceived a warmer touch in his words; his promise.

Finch swallowed hard. "Goodbye, John."

Without waiting for an answer, Finch ended the call, cradling the phone between his hands. He only allowed himself a couple of seconds to calm down, drawing deep calming breaths.

Once his mind was at least partially centered, Finch focused on what he was going to do now. The billionaire looked at the phone in his hand with extreme attention. The cook said he could keep it, and he knew that if he did, it might help Reese find him. Tracking the Wi-Fi spots stored on the phone's memory, though, could prove challenging without a system like his, Finch had no doubt Reese could do it, or he could even seek the Detectives' help. That would give the other man a fairly concrete indication of where he was being held. Of course it all depended on his ability to keep the phone with him without Root noticing.

He concluded it was worth the risk.

After placing the cell phone on silent mode, Finch slowly crouched down, pulling at his pant leg and holding it up with one hand, while he carefully dropped the phone into his sock with the other one. The phone in place, he pulled the sock up his calf far as he could.

That was the best place to hide it he could think of, and he was most certain it would be quite difficult, if not impossible, for Root to find it there.

Letting go of the pant leg, Finch made sure it was straight, without anything that could suggest he had moved it, before he strated walking back to the door.

As he was about to step out, a frightening thought runs through his mind. What if Root already knows what he did? While he don't think he's been in there for too long, he didn't exactly asked the cook to be discreet about it. Though he assumed being asked privately would have been a tremendous hint.

Finch's gaze remained fixed to the door. There's a possibility -a significant possibility- that Root was waiting for him come out to start shooting everyone; wanting him to watch it all.

He took a deep breath, fists clenched at his side. In any case he can't stay in here anymore. He lifted his chin, level and steady, before stepping out.

The first thing he did is shoot his gaze to where Root was. She sat quietly drinking her coffee, but as soon as he came into her line of sight she looked at him, a smile quickly spreading across her face.

As limped back to the table. he looked around out of the corner of his eye, without noticing anything significantly different.

The other waitress, a woman in her early forties with brown hair and warm hazel eyes, stood at the table of the traveling couple, speaking amiably with them.

Finch quietly looked toward the counter. The waitress who served them was there, absently flipping through a magazine. She looked up and give him a friendly smile as he walked past her, and Finch couldn't help but offer her one of his own, quickly, before he reached to were Root was.

Without a word, Finch sat with his hands folded on the table.

Root arched an eyebrow. "You took a little bit too long in there, don't you think? I was afraid you would try something... interesting."

"The conditions of the bathroom were frankly distasteful," Finch said in response, wrinkling his nose slightly. The truth is, he hadn't even taken a look around the bathroom, but he hoped that answer would be good enough for her.

Root tilted her head to the side and didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, the corners of her mouth curled up.

"I guess this is a good time to apologize for the poor conditions of that warehouse. I suppose you're not used to being in such ungraceful places."

Finch looked at her, but was unable to cast the glare he would have liked to give her; the relief at her apparent lack of acknowledgment, or at least suspect of what he just did, making it impossible.

Much to Finch's nervousness and fear, they did not leave the diner immediately. It wasn't until around fifteen minutes later that Root finally called the waitress over and asked for the bill. By the time she did so, the travelling couple had already left, leaving them alone in the place, aside from the staff.

Absently, Finch heard as Root praised the food of the place and promised the waitress they would be back the next time they traveled around the area again. It was almost frightening the way she could hide her true self behind a warm smile and her innocent eyes, just like she had done with Mr. Reese.

Finch risked a glance toward the waitress and was surprised by what he found. There was an almost imperceptible touch of coldness in her light blue eyes, and her expression was one of mild politeness.

It was almost as if she could see behind the façade Root had created for herself; as if she could perceive the malice, the insanity, barely scratching the surface.

Finch wasn't naïve as to exclude entirely the idea that perhaps he was reading too much into those small details, that perhaps he was only seeing what he wanted to see -someone else whom could see what he could- all in an attempt to reassure himself that the woman he was seeing, the hidden one, the woman that only showed small gleams of insanity to him, was real.

The next words that came out the waitress mouth, soft and friendly, were addressed to him, taking him by surprise.

"What about you, sir? Were you pleased with your food too?"

Finch blinked a couple of times, his brow furrowed slightly for a moment.

"I- Yes, of course. It was delicious; thank you."

Juliet offered him a bright smile. "I will let the cook know you both enjoyed the food." She turned to Root, nodding shortly. "I'll get your change immediately."

Finch watched as the waitress walked away, puzzled at just what exactly had happened.

"Well, look at that," Root started, her voice full of amusement. "It seems you have an admirer, Harold. That's so sweet."

They left the diner short after, thankfully without incidents regarding the people in the place or the cell phone he was hiding.

Root rushed him back to the car, and within minutes they were back on the road.

"I'm going to find you, Finch."

The words echoed in his head and he closed his eyes, feeling the gentle breeze from the open window hitting against his face.

Mr. Reese was going to find him. He didn't have the slightest doubt about it now.

OoOoO

A/N: What do you think? Like it? Hate it? Please let me know! Also, we are reaching the outcome of this story, (don't worry, there's at least five more chapter to come) but I'm a little bit unsure about what to do with Root. I was sure when I started this fic that she wouldn't be killed in canon, so that was also my idea for Root's fate in this fic, but there's also a part of me that wish she get some kind of punishment, at least here for now. So I'm putting a poll on my profile, so you guys can tell me what you would like to happen or you can tell me on your reviews too :D