Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 10: after Liberty
"After what happened, I'm not so sure about the military any more.
Their latest Number, Jack Salazar, a sailor in town for Fleet Week, turns away from Reese and looks over at a couple sitting at a table farther inside the bar.
"I thought maybe there was a chance for a normal life when my tour was up," he continues, speaking to the man in the suit sitting next to him. "Like those two."
"Well, the military is full of good and bad, just like the rest of the world," Reese muses. "A guy like you could do a lot of good."
"I was forced to join in the first place," Salazar confesses.
"What? You think you're the first kid to have to stand in front of a judge and pick door number two?" Reese looks away and smiles with almost painful reminicense. "Turns out I was good at it, maybe even made for it. So are you. With your talent, it probably won't be long before the CIA comes knocking."
"So what should I do?"
Reese considers the question. "That's up to you," he says neutrally. "But in a few years, when the guys from Langley show up," he turns back and looks Salazar squarely in the eye, "say no."
Salazar nods. He looks again at the couple, then beckons the bartender over.
"I'd like to buy the happy couple two glasses of champagne."
Despite his best efforts, Reese's thoughts turn to another happy couple whose engagement had been announced in the society pages of the newspaper that day.
As the bartender fills the glasses, Salazar drops into one of them an uncut diamond, one of a smuggled batch that had nearly cost him and his friend their lives. He gives the couple one last glance before standing. Reese follows suit and shakes the hand Salazar holds out to him.
"Thanks. For everything."
Salazar fixes his hat onto his head and walks out of the bar without a backward glance.
"Nicely done, Mr. Reese," Finch commends, appearing from ... somewhere and taking Salazar's vacated stool. "I realize now I never did hear how you came to enlist in the Army."
"Because I never told you, Finch," Reese points out. "I'm a very private person," he adds, using Finch's own words against him. He turns to face his employer. "Well, one more thing set right in the universe. You should look happier, Harold."
"I am," Finch replies, his expression not changing. "It's just ... I have a feeling things are about to get more complicated."
Reese drops a shot glass of whiskey into the pint of beer sitting in front of him and slides it toward Finch.
"Might as well enjoy your first boilermaker."
Finch looks at him questioningly, and Reese smiles. Well, what else could they do? Things were all right. For now.
With Finch decidedly sleepy after the noontime indulgence, Reese drops him off at the Library for a nap and volunteers to take Bear out.
Bear automatically turns for the nearby park that's been their go-to spot recently, but Reese whistles him over to the car, and the Belgian Malinois hops into the backseat obligingly, tail wagging frantically in anticipation.
The drive into Queens is quicker than he expects. He finds a parking spot almost without even looking. And he catches sight of Elena Cassidy immediately, a lone figure sitting on a lone bench, far out of the way of anyone else.
Bailey is lolling at his mistress' feet, but he perks up as they come nearer. Elena doesn't turn around, not when John unclips Bear's leash and he shoots into view like a dark, furry blur. Not at the sound of his owner's approaching footsteps. Not when he tosses down the latest edition of the New York Journal onto the bench and takes a seat next to her. The only acknowledgement of his presence is a small smile that graces her lips but doesn't reach her eyes as they look out onto the river.
"Long time no see," she observes, still not looking at him.
It's true. Apart from the phone call the day she got engaged, the last time they had seen one another was weeks ago, the day he had kissed her on this very bench.
"I was busy," he explains truthfully, offering no more. He nods at the paper he had laid down on the bench between them. "Seems like you've been busy, too."
Elena glances down at the newspaper. It's folded to the society pages, and one of her and Ken's engagement photos smile up at her in black and white newsprint.
"I guess you could say that," she says neutrally.
Several moments pass in quiet. John, surprisingly, is the one who breaks it.
"Will you be happy with him?"
"I plan to be," she answers carefully. "After all, I don't have any reason not to be."
"That's not exactly a reason to marry someone."
"Why, are you offering?" she teases, though it falls a little flat. She looks almost wistfully at him and smiles grimly. "Didn't think so."
"Elena —"
"John, what do you want me to say?" she asks helplessly. "I can count on my hands the number of times we've met. I hardly know anything about you. I don't even know your last name. So I really don't think you get a say in who I decide to spend the rest of my life with."
Silence falls between them once again as they absently watch Bailey and Bear, but the sounds of the city and the lives of 8 million other people go on around them. The little league game in the field a dozen yards away plays on. Bikers race past, joggers at a slower pace.
"Listen, I'm going to go, all right?" she says after a while. "I'll see you around. I always do ... eventually."
"It's Reese," he says suddenly.
She looks confused for a moment before realization sinks in. She smiles ... because the alternative would be giving in to the tears pricking at her eyes.
"John Reese." She says it slowly, testing it out. "I like it," she decides. She finally looks at him, appreciating the way the setting sunlight plays on his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones. "It suits you."
"Elena."
He reaches out and catches her hand. She stops but doesn't turn around.
"I'm going to marry Ken," she says firmly. He can feel her ring digging into his palm. The rock feels as big as the one Salazar had dropped into the champagne glass at the bar.
"Don't ..." he begins, and her breath hitches as they teeter on the precipice, before he pulls them back from the dangerous edge, "... do something you're going to regret for the rest of your life. I know. I've been there."
Unexpectedly, she smiles. "Hey." She squeezes his hand with both of hers. "I'm going to be fine. You don't need to save me from anything."
He blinks. The concept is almost incomprehensible. Everyone needs saving, including her.
Including him ...
"See you around, John Reese." She begins to turn away, but catches herself and swings fully around to face him. "Perhaps I'll have a different name to give you the next time we meet."
She calls Bailey, and he comes running, sitting like a good boy and licking John's hand as she clips on his leash. She gives John a last smile and a wave, and he simply watches her walk away, Bailey trotting at her heels, the hem of her blue dress fluttering in the breeze coming off the river so that her figure seems to threaten to float away on the next gust.
And he really should let her go, let all thought of her blow from his mind, turn away, and never look back. Take the same advice he'd given Salazar and say no. Let her live that normal life he and Salazar fantasize about. She isn't a Number. She'd said it herself: She doesn't need saving. The only thing he needs to save her from is himself.
