Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.


QUEENSBRIDGE PARK

Chapter 32: after Deus Ex Machina


Against the odds, they had gotten Finch back, more or less safe and sound. Reese finishes bandaging Finch's gunshot wound on his shoulder and gently places his suit jacket over his shoulders.

"That's good enough for now. Have Shaw take a look at it when she gets back," Reese advises. "First time's the worst, huh?"

"Why would you ever choose a career where this was an occupational hazard?"

"Well, I tried to quit," he points out, "but some jackass told me I needed a purpose." He gives Finch a small smile.

The computer beeps, signaling an incoming call.

"Get out of the Library. Now. It isn't safe there anymore, Harold."

"Miss Groves? Are you and Miss Shaw —?"

"Card catalog by the window, top drawer on the right. Hurry."

"What's going on?" Finch demands as Reese goes to the card catalog and pulls out two envelopes.

"Your new identities are inside," Root explains. "Destroy everything else."

As Finch wipes his computers clean, Reese retrieves his Plan B bag from the bookshelf. Each holding the envelope Root had prepared for them, they exit the Library with Bear for a final time.

They're across the street just as the NYPD breaks into the Library.

They're across town by the time the NYPD has finished tearing it apart.

Then they part ways on a street near the courthouses, Finch and Bear heading one way, and Reese the other. They share one last look as they continue walking away from each other.

As he approaches a trash can, Reese takes out his phone. He expertly dismantles it with a few quick motions of his fingers, but as he passes the can, he hesitates just for the slightest second before he throws the pieces in.


Elena strolls back to her apartment from the university. She had just left Grace's office, where she and the new professor had had a cozy chat over cups of sencha green tea while a photo of Harold as she'd never seen him in real life — silly, happy — watched over them from the corner of Grace's desk.

Their conversation had touched on the recent blackout in New York. She hadn't heard from John since before then, so she pulls out her phone, debating calling him.

She'd always convinced herself it made more sense to wait for him to call. (As long as you don't count that one time she'd drunk dialed him.) He was the one with the complicated life and unpredictable schedule. And she knows that he somehow knows her schedule, since he never calls during one of her classes or when it's an odd hour, despite the time difference. (As long as you don't count that one time he'd called at 3 a.m. and sounded so lost.)

Before she even realizes what she's doing, her finger has pressed his name and it's dialing.

It doesn't even ring.

"The number you have reached is not in service."

Elena is so shocked she stops right in the middle of the sidewalk and nearly gets bowled over by the man behind her. He curses at her in colorful Italian, but she ignores him as she tries again.

"The number you have reached is not in service."

She takes a seat on the steps of her building, partly because the reception in her apartment is crap, and partly because her legs won't carry her any farther.

She stares down at the phone, finger hovering over the redial button. This couldn't be it. It couldn't end like this. It must be just a momentary blip, a bug. Maybe an after-effect of the blackout.

She takes a steadying breath and dials the number one last time.

"The number you have reached is not in service."