Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 9: end of God Mode
Elena Cassidy stretches out luxuriously on the picnic blanket she and Ken had laid out in the middle of the park. It's a fine spring day with more than a hint of summer, and she feels happier than she has in months.
She turns her head and smiles at the similarly prone figure beside her. They hadn't gone away for Easter, and he'd even accompanied her on her weekly visit to her grandmother. This is the Ken she'd fallen in love with, the man she could defend against Lionel's insults to the moon and back.
Feeling her gaze on him, Ken opens one eye, squinting against the bright sunlight. Her smile widens at his ruffled hair, sticking up in all directions from laying down. He looks younger without it all gelled in place, so much like the boy she'd met in her poli sci class at NYU, when he'd been a TA, and she'd been a sophomore who just wanted to get a distro out of the way.
"What's so funny?" he demands good-naturedly, rolling onto his side to face her.
"Oh, nothing, just remembering how we met."
He looks at her affectionately. "Did you ever figure out the difference between Hobbes and Rousseau?"
She pecks him on the lips. "Nope! Decided dating the political encyclopedia was easier."
Ken is about to say something when Elena pushes herself up and begins tidying the picnic basket. After watching her for a moment, he begins to help her.
Elena glances around the park as they fold the blanket. On an impulse, she'd sent a text to John earlier that day, offering a treat for Bear in exchange for a few minutes of playtime with Bailey, who had been missing his best canine friend. She hadn't expected a reply, having not heard nor seen anything of him for the past two months, but the one-worded answer had come a few seconds later.
Sure.
They'd been there for two hours already, and she's seen no sign of John's tall, besuited figure or heard Bear's now familiar bark.
But as Bailey is deep in a game of fetch with the children from the neighboring blanket, she sees no harm in waiting a few more minutes, so she and Ken take a seat on a nearby bench, waiting for the game to play itself out.
Ken runs a hand through his already messy hair. His palms are slightly sweaty, and he can feel his heart beating a mile a minute. His palms never sweated, which was a good thing for an aspiring politician, his mentors had always told him, half joking, half jealous.
He's halfway to pulling out his handkerchief when he remembers there's something else in his pocket with it, and settles for wiping them surreptitiously on his slacks.
"Are you all right?" Elena asks, concerned at this uncharacteristic behavior.
"No — I mean, yeah, uh ..."
"Too much sun?" she speculates. "Let's get Bailey and go home."
She starts up from the bench, but Ken is quicker to his feet, practically vaulting from his seat. He puts a hand on her arm, keeping her in place as he fumbles for something in his pocket with the other hand.
"Wait a moment, Lenie. There's something I want to ask you."
Elena sits back down. She knows what's coming next, and for some reason she's terribly calm. As Ken goes down on one knee in front of her, all Elena can think of is that she's sitting on the exact same bench John and Harold had sat at when she'd first met them and thought they were a couple, that Ken is kneeling in the same exact spot John had knelt when she thought he'd been proposing to Harold.
"Elena, I've known you for seven years, we've been together for five now. I can't imagine my life without you. I want to come home to you at night and wake up next to you for the rest of my life. I want to provide for you and keep you safe and make you happy." He takes a deep breath and holds up the small velvet box, which holds the most beautiful ring she's ever seen. "Elena Marie Cassidy, will you marry me?"
She stares blankly, not really hearing the question. She suddenly has the overwhelming urge to confess to Ken that she kissed another man in this very same park two months ago, on a bench not a hundred yards from where they are. Well, he had kissed her, but that's semantics really. She hadn't stopped him. She hadn't wanted him to stop.
Her hands are clasped in one of his. He tightens his hold in concern as the silence stretches on. "Darling —?"
"Yes," she blurts out. "Yes, of course."
His face lights up as he slips the ring onto her finger. And then he's kissing her, and she reminds herself that this is all she's ever wanted. He pulls her up and intensifies the kiss, until some applause and cheering from their fellow picnickers reminds him of where they are. Ears red with embarrassment yet grinning, Ken breaks it off.
"Let's go home, huh?" he murmurs.
He turns to collect Bailey, but the golden retriever is nowhere in sight. The kids point in the direction the dog had run off.
"Your dog's trying to ruin the mood," he says, stealing another kiss.
"You better get him then, before I change my mind," she teases.
He gives her a look of mock horror before tearing off after Bailey, eliciting laughs from the nearby children at his exaggerated run, expertly ducking beneath a game of catch and returning an errant frisbee to its owner without breaking stride as he cuts across the park
She supposes she should feel insanely happy, too, that she should feel like skipping through the park, turning around in circles and singing at the top of her lungs, like the heroine in a Broadway musical.
But she just feels that same, terrible calmness.
Her phone rings, and she automatically pulls it out of her pocket, staring at John's name flashing across the screen. He's never called her before, and she can't help but feel it's some sort of sign. She presses the 'accept' button before she loses her nerve.
"Hey!" she says cheerily.
"Hello, Elena."
The moment she hears his voice, she's scarily close to crying. It's stupid, a man she can barely call an acquaintance stirring more emotion in her than her boyfriend — no, her fiancé, she reminds herself, fiddling with the diamond glittering on her finger.
"Something's come up. Bear and I won't be able to make it after all."
"Oh, really?" She holds the phone away as she takes a deep breath to steady the sudden quiver in her voice. "That's too bad! I ... Bailey was really looking forward to it. How about next week?"
"I'll let you know." He pauses. "I've got to go."
She forces a bright note into her voice. "All right, then. See you around!"
After he hangs up, Reese leans on the fence and watches as she lowers the phone from her ear and just ... sits. And after the past 48 hours of chaos and mayhem and uncertainty, he wants nothing more than to be able to just sit there, too, on that bench, next to her.
Then he wouldn't have to think about how he'd teamed up with Shaw to rescue Finch (again) from Root's clutches. How they'd chased them across the country, only to find the Machine wasn't where it was supposed to be, that no one knows where it is or if it's still working.
A soft whining below him catches his attention. Bailey attempts to lick his hand, but can't quite manage it through the fence. Bear, next to Reese, is similarly frustrated, unable to nip playfully at Bailey through the iron bars.
Ken Parker is circling the park perimeter, working his way toward them. He's still a safe distance away, but he'll see them in a moment.
"Go," Reese sternly orders Bailey, pointing toward Elena. The dog follows his hand and glances back at his owner, but stays in place. "Go."
Reese gathers Bear's leash, but there's not enough time. So he reaches into his pocket, pulls out Bear's tennis ball, and throws it as far over the fence as he can.
Bailey takes off like a gold streak. Ken catches sight of him and follows, allowing Reese and a very reluctant Bear to make their escape.
Once Bailey has retrieved the Yellow Orb, he tries to return it to Tall Man, but he's nowhere to be seen. Pretty Man is closing in, so Bailey bounds off in the direction of his mistress.
Elena blinks, jolted out of her thoughts as Bailey deposits a tennis ball into her hand. She stares down uncomprehendingly at it for a moment before she realizes what it means and jumps to her feet, trying to catch sight of John.
"Hey."
Arms curl around her, but it's Ken hugging her from behind, giving her time to arrange her features into something that doesn't look like disappointment. She slips the ball into her pocket without him noticing, and winds Bailey's leash tight around her fingers, not letting him stray away.
"I'm ready to take you home and," he lowers his voice dramatically, "get you undressed ... and then all dressed up again because we have dinner reservations at 7," he finishes in his normal tone.
"That sure of yourself, were you?"
He grins in reply as he scoops up the picnic basket and blanket with one hand, and takes her hand with the other. They walk back to his car, Elena tugging on Bailey's leash to keep him moving in the same direction, resisting the urge to look back herself.
Reese's phone beeps. He'd finally gotten Bear, who had been trying his best to follow Elena and Bailey, into the car.
"Finch," he says, touching his earpiece. "New Number?"
The question is automatic, asked before he remembers they might not get a new Number ever again.
"Never mind. Something wrong?"
"I was wondering ... if perhaps you and Bear would like to join me for a walk."
It's clear from the tired tone in Finch's voice that he hadn't rested, like Reese had ordered him to when leaving him at the safehouse, after they had arranged for Root's stay at Ridgestone Psychiatric Facility. Less clear is how Finch knows his and Bear's walk in Queensbridge Park had been cut short.
"I'll be there in fifteen."
"Finch, you think we'll ever get another Number?"
They're walking slowly through Midtown, surrounded by people who have no idea the world as they didn't know it might have come to an end 12 hours ago.
"I don't know," Finch replies, almost distractedly. "Mr. Reese, I owe you an explanation," he continues, not bothering to beat around the bush. "And an apology. Three years ago, when I put the code out there to free the Machine, I had no idea what path it would take or what unintended consequences it might have."
Finch stops walking and turns to face Reese. "I never intended to hurt anyone," he stresses. "But I accepted that someone might get hurt. I always worried that events that I had set in motion may have ... changed things for you."
Reese presses his lips together, remembering the photo of Jessica that he and Shaw had found in Finch's safe when they were trying to track him down. "My life changed when I kept my mouth shut at an airport terminal seven years ago." Reese shakes his head slightly. "You didn't have anything to do with that. You lost a friend. You did what you had to do."
Finch dips his head in acknowledgement, closing the matter between them. Reese glances at a nearby bank of payphones. They begin moving down the steps toward them, unconscious or not, neither really knows.
"Since the Numbers have stopped, it's not right you should go on paying me as generously as you are."
Finch stops. "Since you give away 90% of what I pay you, I don't see why I shouldn't continue."
Reese gives him a surprised look, but before he can ask how the billionaire knows how he spends his money, they hear a sound they thought they might not hear again.
The shrill, tinny ringing of a public payphone.
It rings again. They glance at one another, unmoving, unsure if they should answer.
It rings once more, insistent, and the spell is broken. Finch limps down the last few steps and, after the briefest of pauses, lifts the receiver from its cradle. And just like that, they have a new Number.
They're back at the Library, Finch scouring the internet for information on their latest victim or perpetrator, Reese standing by the window to get the last of the fading light as he cleans a gun.
It takes Reese a moment to realize the usually incessant typing has stopped. He looks up but doesn't turn around. He can practically hear Finch thinking across the room, and the sudden silence is suddenly more ominous than everything they've been through the past couple of days.
"If I had known you were making a trip out to Queens today ... I would have told you that Kenneth Parker bought a rather expensive item from a jeweler's last week and was, in all likelihood, going to propose to Miss Cassidy. It's their five-year annivesary today."
The billionaire's voice is carefully neutral, but Reese is still and quiet for so long that Finch isn't sure whether he had heard.
"Mr. Reese —"
"She doesn't even know my last name, Finch."
"No one knows your last name, John."
Reese gives him a small, resigned smile. "And no one ever will."
