Disclaimer & Spoilers: see Chapter One

A/N: Beta'd by the awesome ncismom, but since I tinkered with it afterwards, lingering mistakes are highly probable.

ooooooo

Chapter Twelve: Right From Wrong

Finch knew he had to be careful how he answered Reese. Even wounded, John was an incredibly dangerous man.

He took a steadying breath and noted that Bear seemed unsettled by the fact that one of his humans was treating him so differently than what was normal. Perhaps the dog's actions would serve as a kind of proof of what he was about to say.

"I know you have absolutely no reason to believe anything I say, but I would hope that you will at least listen." Finch paused. He hadn't missed the assessing looks that his injured friend had given him and Bear, and hoped they would pass this initial test. The slight rise of one of Reese's eyebrows was the only response; he decided to take it as a sign to continue.

"You and I have been working together for nearly a year and a half, helping to stop crimes planned out in advance. We don't work for the government, but are what you might call 'concerned third parties.' Starting out, we never know if the other person is going to be a victim or a perpetrator."

While he had been speaking, he'd watched as John had finally given in – consciously or not – and had barely moved one of his hands to begin scratching behind one of Bear's ears. It was a good sign, but he wouldn't take it for granted.

"Last night you were attempting to prevent our latest Number from getting himself killed while trying to pay off a large debt to a loan shark. That was how you came to be injured. Mr. Gibson was sent to destroy the loan shark's warehouse for the insurance money, but instead blew himself up or perhaps the bomb was triggered early – I'm not quite sure which." He shrugged and shifted a little to ease the building discomfort from his continued crouched position. Reese's hand stilled and he briefly tensed at Finch's movements, but after a few moments he relaxed enough to continue scratching the dog's ear.

Harold continued on as if the minor incident had not happened. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I do know you were in the building when it exploded. I, and a couple of our associates, have been trying to find you ever since, but you did not make it easy for us. Based on your actions and your reaction to us," he gestured at himself and Bear, "I believe that you are suffering from partial amnesia. I realize that much of this sounds completely far-fetched, but Mr. Reese, I assure you that I would not lie to you."

At the conclusion of his basic explanation, Reese had broken eye contact, and turned towards the dog. With a surprised look on his face, the other man realized what he'd been doing and stopped petting Bear, snatching his hand away as if it had been burned. John then schooled his features and closing his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall.

Harold wasn't sure what to think. For someone like Reese to close his eyes around a stranger and potential threat, it had to mean something. Whether that reason was his injuries overwhelming him, believing Finch, or some other rationale, it was difficult to tell.

Despite the slightly wheezy quality to John's breathing, and no matter how badly he wanted to get his friend to a doctor, he wouldn't force the situation. The choice had to be Reese's.

ooooooo

John closed his eyes – something he wouldn't normally do around a virtual stranger. His mind was obviously more messed up than he'd originally thought.

What he'd been told was definitely far-fetched, yet his increasingly hazy mind told him that this man was telling the truth. The strange man's words seemed vaguely familiar to him, but it was obvious that there was so much more to the story. But, at the same time, it could explain the weird flashes and odd, out-of-place memories he had been having. How much of his memory had the amnesia taken away from him?

If indeed Mr. Glasses was someone he worked with, then the other man was likely there to help him. Evidence that Reese had at least met the mysterious stranger before was practically in his lap; highly trained dogs just couldn't fake this level of familiarity or concern with a human it didn't know.

A Belgian Malinois had been attached to his unit in Tikrit, and he had admired the capabilities of the magnificent animals. On the whole, they didn't react this way with total strangers and were this friendly only with their handlers, those they considered to be part of their pack. Ordinarily he wouldn't be so presumptuous as to touch a professionally trained dog he wasn't previously acquainted with, but he couldn't seem to help himself and the dog obviously didn't seem to mind.

Reese knew that, on some level, he already trusted the one who had come for him. But, as much as he was desperate for sleep and pain relief, he wasn't quite ready to completely give in. He needed more information before he could make a final decision.

John opened his eyes and turned his head towards Glasses. "Name?" he inquired, his voice raspy from disuse and exhaustion.

"What?" the other said, leaning in a little as if to hear Reese's response better.

"You didn't give me…your name." The words caught in his throat, which caused him to cough, spreading a torrent of pain through his upper torso.

By the time John had somewhat recovered, the stranger's hand was hovering near his uninjured shoulder as if he'd considered touching him, but had obviously thought better of the movement. It was a good call, since he wasn't sure what his reaction would have been. At this point, in all likelihood, it would've ended badly for the both of them.

"My name?" Glasses reiterated the hanging question. "You can call me Mr. Finch."

Suddenly, it seemed as if the ground was rushing up towards him at warp speed. He gasped and bowed his head, closing his eyes. Then, trying to regain his balance, he thrust his hands to the ground on either side of his body. The hasty movements caused him to groan in discomfort as flashes from his recent dream assaulted his mind.

He could see the dream as it was – the park bench, the bridge, the familiar skyline. Most importantly, he saw the bird next to him on the park bench, and was once again experiencing the loss he'd felt when it had flown away. John now realized that the bird in the dream had represented Finch, and hearing that name was like finding a missing piece of himself, even if he didn't know where that piece belonged quite yet.

As the images faded, he could hear Finch calling his name.

"—eese? Can you hear me? John?" It was obvious that the stranger – Finch – was worried about him. Feeling the dog trying to bury its head underneath his arm, he opened his eyes.

It was a big mistake; his bout with vertigo had ramped up many of his symptoms and he could feel the bile rising as a result. Even though he knew it would hurt, he turned away from Finch and towards his injured right side, losing the meager contents of his stomach.

His damaged arm, which had barely been holding the rest of him up off the ground, gave way and his body started tipping over. John would've ended up in the vile mess his stomach had produced were it not for the hands that grabbed him.

Ordinarily, instinct would have had him struggling to get away from the one that had grabbed him, but he simply couldn't. Drained, he sagged back into the arms, remembering in a flash another time when Finch had held him upright after he'd been wounded. He could hear the other man speaking, but couldn't quite latch on to most of the words. It didn't matter much anymore; no doubts remained in his mind about whether or not he should trust the one who had come for him.

Risking the consequences, he opened his eyes and looked at Finch. Ignoring the nasty taste in his mouth, he interrupted the other man's speech.

"Finch, if we don't…don't move now, pretty s-soon I won't be mo-moving at all," he declared, slurring his words.

The other man's eyes widened then he nodded once. "Yes, I see." Finch agreed, shifting his stance in preparation to help get Reese up off the cold concrete. "I'm not sure I can do this on my own, but if you could perhaps help a little…"

Reese signaled his acceptance by holding out an arm for Finch to grab. Knowing that he still needed to make it outside, where he presumed some form of transportation was waiting, he tried to tap into whatever reserves he had left, hoping that it would be enough. He honestly didn't know how they had managed, but somehow they did, and he was standing upright again.

They must have made a pretty peculiar trio, with the dog taking point ready to defend the two limping men, one of which could probably be taken out if someone breathed on him wrong. John had no earthly idea how long it took the three of them to make it outside, and he didn't particularly care.

By the time he saw Finch's car, the other man was practically dragging him along and all he could think was that it was almost over. He was slipping in and out of awareness, and soon he would be able to let go.

The next time he was at all aware, he was being lowered into the passenger seat of the car...

He heard the command for the dog to jump into the backseat a moment before he felt a wet nose gently nudge the side of his head...

A door slammed, and suddenly Finch was beside him looking worried...

Feeling the road under the car and seeing the outside world stream past him, he finally let go.

ooooooo

To be continued…

ooooooo

A/N: This was such a frustrating chapter to write, especially Finch's explanation to Reese, and I'm still not exactly happy with it. If you have a chance, could you let me know your thoughts? Thanks!

Thanks for reading!