Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 57: after Truth Be Told
Their latest Number leads Reese right into the path of his former boss at the CIA, Beale. But for some reason, Beale decides not to turn him in.
"I'll be leaving you name out of my report," Beale says as they confront each other on the sidewalk in front of a newsstand. "As far as the Agency is concerned, you're still dead."
"Why would you do that?" Reese asks.
"Might be because you could've killed me the other night, but you didn't. Or maybe I like knowing you're out there, a ghost, still doing what needs to be done."
Stanton had told him something like that once, when they were on a mission in 2010.
"You know why Beale really picked you over the other recruits?" Stanton had asked Reese as they stood in temporary housing in Iraq, having just killed the military adviser who lived there and who had sold missiles to the Taliban.
"You saying it wasn't my test scores?" he quipped dryly.
"It was where you came from. You had no family, at least no real family. And after losing your adoptive mother, you were on your own," Stanton explained. "Beale knew that you'd give everything to the Agency because you didn't have anyone or anything to go back to. Except the girlfriend. And you didn't hesitate to walk away from her."
"Only because I had to."
"That's right," Stanton confirmed. "Because we don't get normal lives. And you can't miss what you never had. That's why Beale picked us, and why we're so good at our jobs."
Reese walks the circular path of the park with Iris at his side, trying his best to figure out how to break it to her — how to break up with her.
"When you said you wanted to take a walk, I didn't know you meant alone."
"Hmm?"
Iris smiles. "You're just more quiet and brooding than usual."
He is, even he realizes that.
"Sorry."
Iris takes his arm. "Is it work? Or your side job? Look, I haven't pressured you to talk about it, but I notice things. Odd hours, random cuts and bruises, blood on your shirt cuff at lunch the other day."
That makes him smile. "You caught that, huh?"
"I read people for a living, remember?"
"Well, you ... read me pretty well, better than just about anyone ever has. It's my past," he finally admits.
He's been fooling himself, thinking he could live half of a normal life.
"Your past isn't anything that you can control. Your future is," Iris is saying.
"I wish it were that simple. But the things I've done ..."
"You don't have to be that person anymore," she insists.
"Actually, I do. And that person doesn't get to have a normal life."
"Says who, hmm?" she challenges.
"The job."
She gives him an exasperated look. "And when will the job be done, John?"
He doesn't answer.
She shakes her head. "Well, I hope, for your sake, one day you'll get to be someone else, maybe have that normal life."
"Maybe one day," he says vaguely. "Just not today."
"And not with me," she says resignedly.
She kisses him one last time.
"Goodbye, John."
She gives him a lingering look as she walks away. He watches her leave, her green shirt the same shade as the surrounding trees in the park. He always did associate her with green. A jade. Patient. Soothing. Calm. And completely incompatible with his life.
As if on cue, Finch calls, and he answers automatically.
"Yeah, Finch?"
"Mr. Reese? We have a new Number."
"I'm on my way," he says, walking the opposite way out of the park.
Back at the subway, Finch swivels his chair to look at Root. "John's coming. He didn't ask for any details about our new Number, though I suppose he was a bit preoccupied following his conversation with Dr. Campbell."
"Maybe just as well, considering," Root muses, looking over his shoulder at his computer.
The photo of their latest Number smiles up at them from the screen, but for once, the ringing of the subway phone hasn't touched off a flurry of research. They know exactly everything about her, down to the way she likes her coffee, her favorite Girl Scout cookie, and why Elena Cassidy moved apartments and changed jobs a couple of months ago.
"I'll go make sure our favorite temp is still typing away at her 9 to 5," Root offers, tucking a handgun into the back of her waistband. "Break it to the Big Lug gently, won't you, Harry?"
"I am sure Mr. Reese will be joining you very shortly, but we must make sure he doesn't do anything ... rash to ensure Miss Cassidy's safety," Finch stresses. "He is still Detective Riley."
Root pauses and looks curiously at Finch. "Not worried she might be the perpetrator, Harold?"
Finch gives her an unamused look. "Even you don't believe that for a second."
Root shrugs. "It would make her a bit more interesting."
"From the amount of attention the Machine has been giving her since it hired her for its temp services agency, it would seem she is terribly interesting." He gives her a sidelong glance. "You aren't jealous, are you, Miss Groves?"
"Maybe that's why her Number's come up." She smiles as she waves a second handgun before tucking it with its partner in her waistband.
"That's not even remotely funny," Finch says sternly. "Somehow I don't see you trying that joke with John."
"That's why you get to break the big news to the Big Lug."
"Well, Harold? Who's the new Number?" Reese asks as he steps foot in the subway, eager for the distraction, his manner all business to head off any uncomfortable questions Finch might ask about his breakup with Iris.
Human though he is, Finch has run through about a dozen simulations of how to tell Reese the Machine had given them Elena Cassidy's Number and his suspicions as to why.
Reese sighs. "Finch, if you just wanted to gossip ..." The faltering step behind him is enough to tell Finch he'd spotted Elena's photo on the board.
"John —"
"Where is she?" Reese demands, striding swiftly to their weapons storage.
"Miss Groves already headed to her office. The office she's working at this week," Finch clarifies.
"What's the address?"
"You know perfectly well where Elena Cassidy is working this week," Finch retorts. "But before you rush over there, guns blazing, we need to discuss —"
"What's there to discuss, Finch?" Reese demands. "Elena's in danger. We need to protect her."
"John, we must entertain the possibility that —"
Reese's glare could freeze water. "She's not the perpetrator, Finch. Elena's too ..."
Nice? Kind? Everything he isn't?
"Good," he decides. He heaves a bag bulging with weapons over his shoulder. "So start Googling and find the threat to her."
Finch stands. "Her Number came up the instant you ended your relationship with Dr. Campbell."
That stops Reese.
Finch makes a hopeless gesture. "So we must entertain the possibility that —"
"You think she's in danger because of me."
It isn't a question.
Finch sighs. "From the start of our acquaintance with her, we've always known that we pose the most serious threat in Miss Cassidy's life, John. I assume that's why you've been keeping your distance from her all these months. As we all have."
Bear whines.
"Ending things with Iris had nothing to do with Elena," Reese insists.
"Sometimes, Mr. Reese, the Machine knows us better than we know ourselves."