A/N: Credit to #NewEditionBET for getting my creative juices flowing. I know "It's been a long time, I shouldn't'a left you..."

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 58: Mood

New Years' Eve, Saturday 31st December 2016, 9.09am, Galah Apartments, Washington Street, West Village, Manhattan

After a night of nocturnal crime-fighting, leaving his wife alone with the boring task of reading NYPD policy changes, John wanted nothing more than to shed his clothes like a second skin and dive under the covers for the last time that year. Between the Christmas dinner they missed most of, the ethical dilemma Joss hadn't made a move to resolve, Taylor's atypical binge drinking with his cousin, the bizarre coupling of Finch and Zoe "Maneater" Morgan as told by Shaw, and the Evelyn's S.O.S. calls about the sister who was driving her crazy; they were finally alone. And it was quiet. Comfortably and peacefully quiet, for once. "What's that smell?" Joss asked, getting a whiff of something like paraffin from his hair.

"Eggs." John joked, thinking the less she knew about last night's four-car pile-up the better.

"Comedian." She replied, giving his bottom lip a bite instead of a kiss.

"Guess what I found?"

"What?" The mistletoe tickled as it rubbed against her chin. "Are you getting all romantic on me, John?"

He smirked. "Somewhat."

"What does that mean?" She shouldn't have asked because the moment he placed the mistletoe above her navel she had already lost by 10. John was too fast for her, pinning down her legs with his forearms before she could move, adding sullying one of the purest holiday traditions to his long scroll of crimes. After all, those weren't the warm wet kisses it was designed for; not that she cared. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Right. There. Yesssssssssssssssss…"

10.10am, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

For the week since Paul made the painful discovery, Jack, or rather Jeremy, Frost had taken up residence at his house and only the arrival of his son and nephew at the crack of dawn could thaw out the chill of disloyalty. His son and cousin were still sleeping off their latest high-jinks and hangovers when Gina tried to break the ice over his favourite breakfast. He was like Taylor in that regard; it didn't have to be fancy, a stuffed sausage, egg and cheese sandwich stacked high and smothered in ketchup did the trick. But the good eats just added to the feeling he was being played by proxy and that left a bad aftertaste in his mouth. "Thanks. That was good." He said, while filling in the last digits in a Sudoku puzzle.

"I know you're mad at me." She started, even though he wasn't looking at her. "And I know why."

He sighed because she knew far less than she thought she did; keeping the channels open with Jeremy to bring them closer had had the opposite effect. "I'm not mad. I'm done." There was no anxious foot-tapping or hand-wringing to accompany his statement, instead he said it with resolve as if to set it in stone. "I left my half to Taylor 'cause he's my blood, Jeremy slid in here and tried to steal it and that was my fault. But I'll be damned if he ever gets the house he locked her up in. Didn't tell you that, did he?" His raised eyebrows and rhetorical question added to what she was already feeling; that it was beyond a mistake she made, she'd done damage to someone she cared about and didn't know how to make it right when her attempts at making things right were all wrong. "That's the man you've been talking to. Can't be trusted. So, can I trust you?"

"Of course." She said automatically.

"Then no more Jeremy. I need to get back to how it was; no Jeremy." Paul's casual ultimatum stunned her silent, everything about how calm he was about cutting his father off for life disturbed her but because she couldn't speak he assumed they agreed. And in that moment, Gina realised there was a high price to pay for talking to Jeremy and he wouldn't hesitate to cut her off either; which placed her on shaky ground. He filled the last 1, 4 and 6 in the puzzle and changed subject. "Can you believe Reggie's never seen the Ball drop, not even on TV? Let's see if he makes it to Times Square tonight, damn Jagers…"

12.26pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst, Queens

With the New Year fast approaching, Paul was restless about creating some kind of change in his life (which Susan would inevitable unearth as taking back control from Jeremy) and felt it was time to resolve things with his son in as few words as possible. Taylor was still in yesterday's clothes with a towel around his neck but was in better shape than his cousin.

Paul noticed his eyes were a little bloodshot. "So you're upright?"

Taylor smiled because the parts of last night he could remember were fun; if there was one thing his old-school friends were good at, throwing wild parties was it. "Yeah. Got kinda crazy last night."

Reggie was still half asleep on the bed and the carpet marks on his face showed Taylor slept on the floor. "I can tell. Look, about the whole thing at Thanksgiving; I'm sorry. You forgive me?"

Taylor had never heard his dad apologise before and that made him respect him more. "Yeah."

Reggie rolled over and snorted, unaware he was being watched. "And you really wanna do Spring Break with him?"

After a semester-full of drama, Reggie was a welcome distraction. "Yeah. Why not?"

Paul had a flashback of Spring Break '91 at Daytona Beach, LL Cool J and red and blue lights. "Just don't get arrested."

Taylor sensed an admission of guilt. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing…it wasn't our fault…"

4.51pm, Finch's Townhouse, Carnegie Hill, New York

The leather-bound copy of The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau made Shaw roll her eyes at the charade that was the budding relationship. In her mind, the only person with the right to invade his space was her, not a pregnant PR expert with a penchant for rich, educated men. It was a shame to see her friend getting played but she was incapable of expressing it in a socially-acceptable way. "Is there an issue I'm unaware of Ms Shaw? You have been rather tense this festive season."

"She's using you." Finch found that claim ironic since she had eaten half the contents of his fridge in the last 48 hours. "First she wanted sperm, then she wanted a baby and now she wants a billionaire to bankroll it."

"I assure you, Zoe is on firm financial footing. Now if the issue is my largesse-"

"Zoe? What happened to Ms Morgan?"

"There are times where such formality isn't required."

"Like when you're knocking off Jethro's leftovers?"

"Must you be so crass, or is that a certain banjo player's turn of phrase? I believe there was a point to your bad mood, not just an unfounded accusation?"

Shaw sighed because she didn't understand how he still couldn't see what was in front of them with the Machine on his side. "She. Is. Using. You. You're not her type, Harold. You're a stand-up guy, practically blue-blooded. We all know Zoe's a climber; if it's not a power grab, a money grab, or an ego boost, her heart's not in it. Now you're being set-up as a…Billionaire baby daddy."

Finch clears his throat, unsure of what to make of her outburst. "Well, that was rather…enlightening. Before you return to that comfortable loft across town, I believe it was Bill Withers who once sang, 'if it feels this good getting used; you just keep on using me, until you use me up.' Travel well, Ms Shaw."