A/N: In my mind Rev. Harris is played by a barefaced shaven T.I. Don't ask why lol.

This is for everyone who wishes it was a three-day weekend. All of us? Okay then.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 32: Money

Sunday 23rd October, 11.47am, St. Luke's Methodist Church, Brooklyn, New York

On top of compliments, Evelyn loved recognition. Maybe it came from being the long-suffering second-born sister to the orderly, wannabe-Mama's-favourite Cammie, or hooking her first husband at the tender age of 16 with long pressed hair and burning desire to get out of Beaufort as fast as was humanly – and legally – possible. Either way, when Rev. Harris thanked Jocelyn and her (absent) husband John for their generous contribution to St. Luke's After-school homework club she sopped up the praise and reflected glory like a biscuit did gravy. But alas, in trend with the past few months her happiness was short-lived as her son-in-law showed up at the end of service to whisk her daughter away in a 4x4 she'd never seen before off to do something excited they'd never tell her about. "At least they're married. After you." Gregory commented, never one to twist the knife as he opened her car door, holding in laughter as she huffed.

12.27pm, Huber-Scholz Apartments, Midtown, Manhattan

Although it wasn't on Finch's list, or owned by him, the two-bed, two-bath split-level 3rd floor apartment with a wall-mounted electric fireplace immediately stood out to Joss over oysters the previous afternoon. John got the last available viewing slot, less by chance, and more by paying the realtor's assistant $300 in cash to move another couple out of the way and promising a cool grand if they liked it to "accidentally" lose anyone else's contact details. It wasn't too far from Belasco Theatre where she tried to give a 4th grade Taylor some culture when all he wanted was the ice-cream and binoculars. It was more spacious than the first and the fitted kitchen was top of the range, but she missed the island counter. The two walk-in closets sat right with her; one for her clothes, shoes and purses, and another for John's weapons. Taylor would have a bigger room, not that he'd need it after graduation. And the master bedroom let in just enough sun.

"So, what'd you think?" John asked, thinking it was more 'homey' than the last one.

"It's more our speed."

"But…"

"Is it petty to want an island counter in the kitchen?"

He thought back to the many, many ways they put that counter to use more or less every time Taylor wasn't home and since he left. "No, it's not."

The realtor joined them in the master bedroom, eager to get the next couple in on time. "So? What are we thinking?"

"I think we're getting closer." John confirmed. "But we need an island counter."

The realtor nodded, making a mental note to look for another place them first thing on Monday morning because judging from the 4x4 outside, the man in the Italian suit and the sapphire on her ring finger their last name was spelt C-O-M-M-I-S-S-I-O-N.

1.38pm, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York

Scout devoured the last of the plate of Cibus gourmet canine cuisine proving Shaw right – she was a classy dog with a posh palette. Although Bear seemed very fond of his new playmate, Finch thought it was just a temporary solution. "What do you suppose happens if Captain Noguerra puts a BOLO out for his dog?"

Shaw pulled some toys out of the dog chest. "You think he'd do that? And look like a complete idiot seeing as she's supposed to be in the river? If he does, we leak the story to local news that a civil servant is misusing public funds 'cause he forgot to lock the cage. End of story."

He sighed, because she was right and that was an alarming thought. He also wondered what John's end game was, other than causing psychological damage. Either way, Shaw left with two happy dogs on leashes and at least something was right with the world.

3.58pm, Bartholemew & Chantal Sloane Library, Emory University

Taylor still didn't know much about Zahra's traumatic experience other that he was going to be her friend as well as her boyfriend. After she left to console a broken-hearted friend with Two can play that game and Beyoncé's Lemonade album, he didn't know what to do with himself. He tried the gym because he was tense with confusing emotions and disturbed thoughts, he went to church on campus because he felt helpless, and he tried the intellectual approach which confused him further because he didn't know what he was looking for. His searches led to a self-harming site, counselling services and an NGO which outlined four different types of female genital mutilation that sent his breakfast back up. He had so many questions for her he couldn't dare to ask, and because Gregory would definitely tell Gram and John would inevitably tell Ma, he could only call his dad.

It was noisy in the background on the other end, as Paul was queuing at a fast food spot to grab a late lunch for Gina, her Klassic Dance Troupe and the KDT parents on the bus. "Tay, good to hear from you. You sound better."

"Yeah," Taylor replied, though he wasn't so sure. "You were right about the girlfriend thing. About her asking."

Paul wasn't used to being told he was right by anyone outside of the office. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"She sounds like a nice girl."

"She is. So, did they win?"

"They placed second, by two tenths of a point. Something about their kicks and splits. So Gina's on the bus tearing them a new one. Reminds me of Coach Run-Run."

Taylor remembered his college coach used to solve all the team's problems by making them run-run, all the way to consecutive State Championships. "Where are you?

"Getting lunch for 25, I hope it takes an hour 'cause she was pissed." He notices his son's laugh didn't sound the same. "What's up, Tay? Is it Brock and R.U.M.M.?"

"No, he's just acting weird and d-baggish."

"Then what's going on? You broke?"

"It's not money."

"Can't be Calc, right? Smart apple, smarter tree." He noticed Taylor didn't laugh that time and he didn't know what to do because he wasn't saying anything. "You wanna come home for the weekend? Before Thanksgiving."

It hadn't crossed his mind that it was an option. "Maybe?"

Even though Paul known for being a miser, he thought he could break his no-frills edict for once. "Tell me when, I'll send a ticket."

"What's the catch?" Taylor asked.

He sighed. "You're my son, it's just money."

Monday 23rd October, 11.09am, 8th Precinct

Because he was usually so well-presented, coiffed and camera-ready, Joss was surprised to see Captain Noguerra arrive late to work looking so stressed. Laz, the Police Aide, had been asking around the bullpen and the wider office about any news about bodies being pulled from the Hudson over the weekend which made the Organised Crime and Homicide detectives eager to break whatever case that was so important to him. Fusco went on without her when the body of an unidentified male washed up on the bank of Fort Washington Park as 'the case that no-one wanted' still beckoned. Her instinct was to look up homeless people who'd been arrested, weeks before and after. in the area where the trafficked foster kid no-one wanted lost his life. In her experience, homeless people didn't make the best witnesses in court but for the promise of a warm bed and hot meal at a nice shelter or B&B, they tended to make good C.I.s. She didn't get a chance to act on her idea before her ex-husband called, which was very unusual since all they had to talk about was Taylor. "Hi Paul."

"Hey. You good?"

"Great. You?"

"Yeah, something's up with Taylor. I don't know what but…"

5.54pm, Sweetest Sting Boxing Gym, Harlem, New York

Frankie "Fleetfoot Mac" McElroy was a 15-year-old boxing and Taekwondo prodigy, reminding John of a more disciplined version of his younger self. He didn't understand how MMA worked, because he was too busy mixing martial arts in his own life, but watching the youngster take down his coach and reverse submission holds gave John a warm and fuzzy feeling. Frankie's number came up less than two hours prior and he was eager to find out what someone would want with this kid. His attempted to fade into the background and be discreet was blown when the realtor called with good, no great, news about a 3-bed split-level apartment in East Harlem they just had to see. Against Finch's voice in his head, John abandoned his mission for an hour or two just to see if it was worth their time.