Author's note: Canon divergence post 1.22.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of this show.
"…and its watching us right now." Peck ends, slumping back.
"Yeah?" Joss asks, following his line of gaze to the cctv on the side.
"You have to believe me." he says urgingly, shooting a horrified glance at the CCTV camera, "Please."
"So, you're saying the government built a machine that can predict and inform 'em about terror attacks before they occur."
"Yes."
Joss sighs and walks out, something niggling at the back of her mind.
"You done interrogating your guy?" Fusco asks
"Yeah. He's not making a lot of sense."
Something isn't right here.
After Reese picks Peck up, she gets busy filling in some paperwork,
"Hey, Carter"
"Yeah, Fusco?" she mutters.
"That guy you interrogated?"
"Yeah?"
"He's dead. The guys found his business card near a car explosion."
Joss raises an eyebrow, "Car explosion."
Fusco shrugs, "It's what they said."
Joss sighs and unbidden a sentence John's friend had said comes to her, "Derek Watson is about to be involved in a violent crime. I don't know what exactly, but believe me, something is gonna happen."
She'd scoffed then, but after what Peck has said, she can't seem to forget that Derek Watson had been involved in a crime. But it wasn't a terror attack…
She needs sleep, she's making something out of nothing.
Joss is exhausted, as she stands in Washington park; Finch is missing and John is on his last tether. The last thing she needs right now is him to lose control. If only Finch hadn't erased himself from the world entirely, it probably would have been-
"Oh, I'm so sorry about your shoes" Comes a rather alarmed voice.
Joss looks down to find a quite a bit of paint on her shoes, "That's okay." she sighs, looking up at a sheepishly smiling red-head.
"Please, you can come home and clean them up. It's just across over there." The woman says.
Joss doesn't really need a detour or clean shoes, but she really needs a break. And maybe speaking to someone else will give her a break so she can look from a different perspective.
"Alright."
"I'm Grace, by the way. And I'm usually not so clumsy." she says, apologising.
"Joss Carter, uh, S'alright. I needed a sit-down anyway."
Walking into Grace's house, she eyes the catalogues, paints and the easel which currently has only a blank sheet of paper. Her eyes come to rest on a picture with a familiar face.
"Who's that?" she asks, as she bends down to wipe the paint.
"That's Harold. my fiancé." Grace replies quietly.
"He lives here?"
"No, he used to though…he died two years ago in an accident."
"I'm sorry." Joss murmurs sympathetically, the cogs in her mind turning.
Why would Harold leave an obviously loved fiancé for a life of solitude and secrets? What did he have to hide?
"Coffee?"
"uh, No, thanks. I should probably head out."
Grace smiles, "Have a nice day, Detective Carter."
"Thanks, you too."
Harold's been found and Fusco and Carter have a bit of time until they have to help the two vigilantes again.
They've even had dinner- everyone together, Finch's way of thanking them.
Joss decides to do a little digging, even though she has no idea of his real name, and the only picture she's seen was in Grace's house.
Well, that is a good place as any.
Grace Hendricks, she finds, is a cover illustrator for The Boroughs magazine, one of the few who hasn't transitioned to digital art. There is a surprising lack of information about her.
"What are you hiding, Finch?" she murmurs and wait- why does her laptop have the camera on- huh, she must be seeing things.
Camera reminds her of what Peck said again. CCTVs do record audio and video, but it is too farfetched to think that's what the government uses isn't it?
The law enforcement pulls up the footage when it is available, to help solve crimes but no way anything could predict a terror attack. She rubs her forehead; she really needs to stop thinking about this.
Her phone rings, it is an unknown number, "Carter"
"Detective. Is it possible for you to meet us near the Flatiron building in say, half hour?"
She sighs again, and then makes up her mind, she'll ask Finch about Grace today, "Alright."
"Hello detective" greets Finch and John and their new dog.
"Hey."
When they don't speak as she greets Bear, she prompts them, "You need some information?"
"Not exactly, we – I would like to ask for a favour, detective."
Joss blinks and smiles wryly, "Favour? Go on"
The man seems to be weighing her with his eyes. John whispers something hesitantly in his ear to which he nods sharply.
"Grace was my fiancé until I- I- died. She doesn't need to be involved in what I'm doing, detective. It would put her life in danger which was why I faked my death. I ask that you not reveal my survival to her."
"I won't" Joss assures as she bites her lip.
How the hell does he know that she'd been with Grace– he'd hacked the camera feeds, probably. On a hunch she asks, "Is it true?"
They both give her blank glances.
"What Peck was talking about in the interrogation room, is it true?"
John blinks at the question and Finch's gaze seems to be lasering straight through her, as though looking for weaknesses. The intensity of their scrutiny is off-putting.
"Yes" its no louder than a breath yet she hears it perfectly.
"That's what helps you, doesn't it?"
"Yes, detective" Finch says, at the same moment John speaks smoothly, "Joss." and she freezes.
"Mr. Reese." Finch reprimands, but John doesn't move and neither does she.
"How do you know all this?" she asks, one last question even as she squashes the horror that's creeping up on her.
Finch looks at her again, and her breath catches because his eyes hold pain and there's an utter bleakness and something else – something foreign to his gaze. "Because, I built it." He says softly.
Joss doesn't even think of moving, one, because John looks like he's ready to retaliate if she even breathes too loudly, two, because she's reeling from shock.
"You- built it." She croaks, that's why he had to leave…
"Yes," Finch says, calmly, "And its watching us right now."
She understands his paranoia now and wait, "Peck got killed because- did you-were you involved-"
They look highly affronted at that but they're not seeing how deadly they look right now.
"No, detective, the Office of the Special Counsel is not very fond of people who might know about the machine." Finch says stiffly.
She believes them. After seeing the extent to which the government can go for a rogue agent or even someone who was just asking questions, she can believe that.
"Goddamn it. And what if… I tell-" she starts, heart in her throat, because she has to ask, to know.
Finch stares at her solemnly, with eyes that speak of loss and death, "I'm afraid we wouldn't be able to help you or any of those you would tell.
"You mean the government…"
She lets herself trail off as Finch looks right up at one of the cameras, his expression matter-of-fact, "Not just the government." He says mildly.
And she gapes, some part of her brain noticing that Reese's sharp gaze is on her and he doesn't seem the least surprised.
"The machine has an instinct for self- preservation. Detective," Finch says quietly.
"You didn't help…" she begins and shuts her mouth, asking any further would probably be crossing a point of no-return,
Fuck it. She's in. She's not gonna breathe a word. She's better off alive than dead, whatever the information she released would do.
"Okay." She breathes, and looks straight at the camera as she affirms, "I'm not telling anyone. I swear to it."
The red light blinks.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated.