Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 27: between Allegiance & Most Likely To
Lionel walks away from the couple they had just helped save and who are now enjoying dinner with the New York City skyline as their backdrop. He catches sight of the dark-haired woman at the bar and takes a seat next to her.
"Hey, what's up?" he asks Shaw. "Thought the case was closed."
"You did good tonight, Lionel," Shaw compliments, a rarity.
He smiles and calls over the bartender. "Glass of champagne, best you got."
"I thought you didn't drink," Shaw points out.
"March 20th." He slides the glass of champagne toward Shaw. "Persian New Year."
"I thought you didn't care about foreign cultures," she says pointedly.
Fusco smiles. "That's what's great about New York. You don't have to travel to learn about other cultures. They all come here."
"My father brought my mother here on their first date," Shaw reveals quietly.
"No kidding." Fusco takes a look around. "Nice place."
"It's changed names a couple times, but the view's still the same." She can feel Fusco continuing to look at her, an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face. "Get outta here, Fusco."
Fusco leans close as he gets to his feet. "Happy new year, Sameen," he says, before walking out.
Across the restaurant, their Number looks at her love. "It may not be the desert stars, but there's nothing like the New York City skyline."
He leans in and cups her cheek before they share a kiss, with only the skyline and an ex-international assassin as witness.
"Hi, stranger," Elena greets as soon as she answers John's call.
"You busy?"
"I'm having dinner."
He frowns. "Alone?"
"No." She draws it out for a few moments to allow his curiosity to torture him. "I'm with you," she finally says.
Reese smiles at that.
But it fades as he takes in the New York City skyline from a parked car, waiting for Shaw to appear out of nowhere so they can go track down their latest Number.
"How's Bear? Is he being a good boy?"
"Is he ever anything but?" Reese pauses for a second before adding, "He misses you."
"Does he? I miss him, too."
"He's not the only one."
"Oh?"
"There's ... Harold."
"Harold. Right."
He can hear the amusement in her voice.
"Shaw."
Elena laughs. "Sure."
"... And me," he admits.
Is it possible to hear someone smiling over the phone?
"I miss you, too, John."
He watches a couple with their dog cross the street. He waits until they've disappeared around the block before he speaks again.
"Isn't it time to come home, El?"
"What home, John?"
The irony isn't lost on him that he'd said the same thing to Fusco months ago in Colorado. Only she says it matter-of-factly, without a note of self-pity.
"I sold my house," she reminds him. "I don't have Bailey anymore. I realize now that most of my friends were actually just Ken's friends. I don't think there's much for me to come home to."
"There's ... me," he hears himself saying.
There's a moment of stunned silence.
"Is there?" she asks wistfully.
"And Bear," he adds quickly.
She laughs, and the rather dangerous direction of their conversation is diverted. He's always been able to get himself out of tough spots.
"Bear. Right. Well, that's a different story. I might have to reconsider."
"Hey, loverboy, can we wrap this up?"
Shaw has somehow appeared in the passenger seat next to him. He does a double take. Instead of tied back in a simple ponytail as usual, her hair is down, tumbling around her shoulders in soft curls.
"I gotta go," Reese says into the phone.
"Talk to you later. Tell Sameen I said hi."
Reese gives Shaw an unamused look as he stows his phone away.
"You're not going to pass along her message?" Shaw asks.
"You heard it."
"That's not all I heard." She smirks. "How long have you and Cassidy been ... special friends?"
He ignores her as he starts the car and pulls into the street, but he can feel Shaw's eyes on him, appraising him.
"You're not," she realizes. "You haven't ... then what the hell was that all about?"
He continues to ignore her in the hopes she'll drop it. But no such luck.
"Oh." Shaw sounds bored now. "She's your pixie."
Her pronouncement is so unexpected he breaks his silence.
"What?"
"Pixie. You know, daydream. The life you think you want. No Numbers, no guns, no bad guys. Just ... normal. Boring," she adds. "The kind of life my par— normal people want. The kind of life we're not cut out for."
He doesn't dispute it. He knows she's right.
"Is it just me, or is it getting harder to tell these tourists apart?" Shaw grouses as she and Reese sit in the car, waiting for their Number.
"Don't appreciate visitors, Shaw?" Reese asks, glad she's dropped the subject of Elena Cassidy.
"I don't appreciate their fanny packs," Shaw says.
"Pretty handy for concealing a grenade," Reese points out.
Shaw gives him a look.
"Got eyes on our Number, Finch," Shaw announces as they spot an older woman waving down a taxi.
"Leona Wainwright, clerical assistant in the Office of Personnel Management," Finch explains in their ears. "The OPM manages everything from background checks to pension benefits."
"Federal," Reese notes. "So Leona lives in D.C."
"She's in town to see a Broadway show," Finch says.
"Is that why you had us dress up, Harold?" Shaw asks, already sounding displeased. "An evening at the theater?"
"If you keep an open mind, Miss Shaw, you might actually enjoy yourself."
"What's the show?" she demands.
"'Mamma Mia'," Finch admits after a pause.
Shaw sighs, Reese looks a little panicked.
"Whose turn is it to save this one?" Shaw asks.
"Let's flip for it," Reese suggests, hoping luck will be on his side.
"Heads," Shaw calls it as she tosses a quarter.
Reese groans as it lands heads.
"Guess it's your turn," Shaw taunts.
A/N: from Lady Killer (s3e03)
Shaw: So ... how long have you and Zoe been ... special friends?
Reese: I haven't really counted the days, Shaw. What about you? Any big dates lately?
Shaw: Been too busy saving the world from bad guys. Besides, relationships are for amateurs. Guys these days have so many ... emotions. They cry, they want to be held. I just don't know what to do with them.
Reese: So ... you're a nun?
Shaw: I'm a pragmatist, John. I go out, have a fun night, or three, and then I move on, you know? No muss, no fuss.
