Disclaimer : nothing you recognise belongs to me.
Too easy. Even taking into account the lack of light and the new face that still itched beneath the carefully applied make-up to conceal the bruises from the surgery it was ridiculously easy to remain unnoticed. Grayson Kent watched Detective Carter wander down the hallway before going into her apartment, a smile upon her pretty features. He had a gun with him – a quick shot between the eyes, she wouldn't even know what had hit her... But no. He was no two bit gangster wannabe leaving a dead body in a hallway because of petty anger. As with all things worth savouring planning was the key. He'd paid a good chunk of change to some of the more morally ambiguous cops that he'd paid off over the years to obtain the information on the Detective. Forewarned was forearmed and she certainly wouldn't be getting the drop on him again. The man at the docks with obvious military training had proven to be more elusive, but there were mutterings that where Carter went he was likely to be close.
The ex-lawyer watched as she called out to the teenager before closing the apartment door behind her. The son, Taylor. Tall, could be a problem when he made a move, could also be an asset. With a gun to his head the kid's mom would do pretty much whatever he wanted her to. The same went if he switched the roles. People were surprisingly malleable when their loved ones were threatened, far more so even than when they themselves were in the firing line. Not a problem he himself had – he'd helped his no so dearly departed mother shuffle of this mortal coil after all. Turning on his heel, Kent headed back down the hallway and down the stairs. The little blonde bitch could wait until he'd taken out the cop and the man in the suit. Killing them was a necessity as a payback for the blows to his pride and his business. Killing Jacey though, that would be pure pleasure. Once he got his business back up and running even the whisper of what had happened to her would be enough to keep the new girls in line. He caught a brief glance at his reflection in the glass door as he exited the building and felt a pang of regret. The surgeon he had chosen had done a fine job at changing his appearance, but he missed his old face. Give it time though, he thought. He had enough money stashed in various accounts to make this identity even more memorable than the last.
"Mr Reese I really must insist on you removing that..." Harold Finch struggled to come up with a word that would adequately convey his disgust. "Plastic monstrosity." Eyes narrowed behind his glasses, he watched as a highly amused looking John fluffed out the branches of the Christmas tree he'd brought into the library.
"Where's your holiday spirit?" Taking no notice of his employer's complaints, the tall man stood back and admired his handiwork. "Everyone should have a tree at Christmas, it's probably in the Constitution. Or the Bible."
"I assure you that it most certainly is not," Harold retorted, swinging around in his chair and looking at the decoration with utmost loathing. "And were there to be a passage in the Bible with regard to the very much pagan based tradition of decorating trees for Yule, I sincerely doubt that they would be describing pink ones with what looks like a woman of ill-repute on top of them."
"It's a Barbie doll dressed as an Angel." Johnn looked at the doll critically and adjusted its position on the top of the tree.
"I fail to see the difference," Harold muttered.
"Oh cheer up Harold." John tossed a couple of files off his favourite chair and slumped down into it, crossing his long legs at the ankles. "It's Christmas eve, we don't have any new numbers and as far as I know no-one is actively trying to kill us. Enjoy the moment."
"I'd enjoy it more if I knew Grayson Kent's location." Harold turned back to his computer. "He's been moving money from two of his overseas accounts but I haven't been able to track him. I'll sleep a lot easier when I know that he's behind bars."
"You'd know if he'd come back to New York," John pointed out. "He's been all over the papers since we took down the prostitution ring, why would he risk showing himself? I don't like him getting away any more than you do Finch, but lets face it, you can't win them all."
"No we can't," Harold agreed, tapping away on his computer. "But I can't say that the knowledge sits easily with me."
"Me neither." Picking up an old file, he flicked through it. "So what did you get Carter for Christmas?"
"None of your business," Finch replied promptly, not taking his eyes off the screen. "But speaking of gifts if you would drop the box on the counter off when you check on Jacey I'd appreciate it."
"Hmm."John got to his feet and padded over to the corner where a simple but elegantly wrapped box sat. "I'm guessing that it isn't a puppy."
"You would be correct." Despite the snarky comment Harold seemed a little embarrassed, deciding not to make fun of the friendship between the girl and his employer, John picked the box up.
"I thought I'd go and see her now, maybe take her to a movie. She's probably bored out of her mind."
"A nice thought, Mr Reese." Harold gave a quick smile. "I suppose that I don't need to remind you to be careful."
"You suppose right." Tucking the box under his arm and picking up his car keys, Reese exited the library and unlocked the black SUV that was his current untraceable vehicle of choice. The wind was bitter, the sky a heavy gray that hinted at snow to come, but any mild discomfort was easily ignored. The gaudy Christmas lights strung in windows, the fat Santa shaking a charity bucket at the end of the street. Even the hot dog vendor with tinsel around his hat. All things that would have passed his notice before, or at least been viewed with a vague alienated suspicion seemed to brighten the morning somehow. Turning the key in the ignition Reese wondered if he'd ever actually looked forward to Christmas before. There had been a memorable one with Jessica and he supposed he'd liked it when he was a kid, before his family and then his life in turn had gone to hell, but this feeling of something almost akin to contentment was new.
Harold and Joss,he thought. The former giving him a reason to keep living, the latter giving him a reason to want to. Pulling out into the traffic he joined the throng of commuters, for once just another irrelevant number.
Jacey was touchingly pleased to see John. Careful to ask for the safe word before opening the door to the hotel room, she gave him a quick hug before stepping back.
"What's that?" she asked, eyeing the box curiously once the door was closed and Reese had shucked off his coat and put his Glock on the table. Clad in jeans and an oversized t-shirt and with her hair scraped back she looked like a different girl to the one he'd rescued only a few weeks ago.
"It's for you, from Harold." Passing the present to her, John smiled. "Maybe you should open it."
Jacey took the box but looked uncertain, sitting down on bed and running her fingers over the wrapping paper.
"I don't know," she said dubiously. "Christmas isn't until tomorrow and it's not polite to open presents when the person who gives them to you isn't there."
"I don't think he'll mind." John sat down next to her. "The thing with Harold..." He struggled to find the right words. "He gets embarrassed when people thank him. I think that he'd rather that you opened this in private."
"I don't have anything for him, or for you," she said quietly.
"Hey." John nudged her shoulder. "You're going to be a brilliant chef. You can name dishes after us when you open your first restaurant."
Jacey's lips twitched in a small smile. "Neither of you are allergic to anything are you? I'd better make something that you can actually eat."
"Harold doesn't like coffee so tiramisu is out, and I don't like polenta, but anything else is fine."
"No coffee or polenta." Jacey nodded solemnly. "Got it." Pulling off the wrapping paper and tucking it to one side, it took her a moment to get the tape holding the box closed off. When she did so, opening it up and moving the tissue paper inside out of the way, she took a moment to stroke the soft cashmere dress hidden inside before pulling it out.
"Blue's my favourite colour," she said quietly, getting up and moving over to the full length mirror in the corner. Holding the elegant and obviously expensive garment against herself she swallowed hard and gave John a watery smile.
"Pretty young ladies should have something nice to wear on Christmas day." John gave her a wink. "Don't distract Taylor too much though, I think Joss has got him to help with the cooking. If he burns the potatoes she won't be too happy."
Jacey narrowed her eyes craftily. "I'm pretty sure Detective Carter will be a little distracted herself. She was definitely checking out your ass the other day. She's hot, you're hot. Maybe you should buy some mistletoe."
John didn't blush, but he certainly thought that shifting the subject of the conversation would be a good idea. "Speaking of distractions, how about we get out of here. The new Bond film and popcorn sound ok?"
"Totally avoiding the subject," Jacey said, carefully putting the dress back in the box. "But I'll let it slide. You make a better James Bond than Daniel Craig though."
"Good to know." Reese waited for his young charge to pull on her sneakers and grab her coat. Nodding at the concierge whom Harold Finch had once done a big favour for and was unofficially on the pay-roll, the pair headed out into the wintry afternoon.
A/N: Have a brilliant holiday season everyone xx