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


QUEENSBRIDGE PARK

Chapter 35: after Wingman


"Great work today, guys," Captain Moreno tells Detectives Fusco and Riley. "You really managed to turn things around."

"Thank you, Captain," Riley says. He'd closed three cases today after being yelled at for kneecapping his fourth guy that month, so, in his books, he'd broken pretty even.

"Drinks on me tonight," she adds on her way out.

"I, uh ... I guess you figured out how to be a good cop after all," Fusco says.

"It's a process, Lionel," Reese says.

Fusco smiles. "Listen, about those drinks tonight, I ... I got somewhere to be," he whispers confidentially.

"Cooper came through on the dating front," Reese realizes. Their latest Number was a professional wingman, and Fusco had been undercover as a client.

Fusco grins.


"You know, you don't look half bad in this suit," Elena says as she fusses with Fusco's pocket square in his stylish (and ridiculously expensive, in his opinion) new suit.

"You know, Wonderboy here doesn't have a trademark on looking good in a suit."

"Half bad doesn't mean good," Reese points out.

Elena laughs and Fusco bats her hands away. "Ah, stop fussing. This isn't prom. I'm leaving."

"Good luck!"

"Whatever."

Elena turns to look in the mirror Lionel had been monopolizing for the past half-hour and gives herself and John an appraising look. He's in his customary suit — and she thinks maybe he does have a trademark on the look — and she's still wearing her dress from manning the beauty counter all day for Sameen. Remove her name tag, and they wouldn't look a bit out of place in one of the trendiest parts of town.

"You wanna get out of here?" she asks.

"You want to keep an eye on Lionel to make sure he doesn't embarrass himself on his date?"

She smiles brightly. "No, I want to be there when he does."


Trendy means busy, loud, and packed, but somehow — and she really doesn't want to know how — John finds them two seats at the bar.

It's been quite some time since she's gone out, Elena realizes as she sips a cocktail that costs more than she makes an hour. She and Ken had enjoyed the Manhattan nightlife, but it's been so long that she'd forgotten the looks and leers that come with the territory. Everyone seems to be looking and leering from a distance, however.

She glances up at her companion and realizes why. Well, if John was glaring at her like that, she wouldn't come near with a ten-foot pole either.

Maybe there are perks to having a tall, well-dressed, very intimidating detective as your drinking partner.

She's forced to lean into him as someone squeezes in behind her to order at the bar. "You could look like you were enjoying yourself just a tiny bit," she teases. "After all — oh!"

An inebriated patron knocks into the man standing behind Elena, causing him to spill the drinks he's holding down her back. The startled gasp has hardly escaped Elena's lips before Reese is on his feet, hand latching onto the shoulder of the stumbling drunk both to steady him and 'escort' him out of the bar ... and onto the sidewalk outside.

"I am so sorry." Reese can hear the other man apologizing as Elena tries to wring the liquor from her hair and wiggles to dislodge an ice cube that somehow found its way into her dress. "Please, let me buy you another drink. And pay for ruining your dress?"

Elena laughs as she pushes back her hopeless hair. "It's from Target. It probably cost less than the drink —"

"Ellie? Ellie Cassidy?"

Elena freezes, and Reese is at her side in a second.

"It's me — Adam!" The man continues, yet oblivious to Reese's presence.

Elena is clearly at a loss. "Adam ...?"

"Saunders?"

Both Elena and Adam Saunders turn to Reese in surprise. Saunders had been one of the earliest Numbers Reese had helped save, a young hotshot Wall Street trader.

"You?!" Adam exclaims incredulously.

Recognition dawns on Elena's face. "Adam Saunders from Roscoe High! Oh my God!" She catches sight of John's bemused expression as she gives Adam a quick hug. "Wait, you two know each other?"

Reese and Adam exchange a look, the latter trying to get a sign from Reese on how he should play it.

"We ... worked together a few years ago," Adam flounders.

Elena, to her credit, doesn't even blink. "Last I heard, you were making waves on Wall Street. Something about the 'short of the century'?"

"Not anymore, actually. I ... uh ..." he exchanges another glance with Reese. "It wasn't good for my health."

Elena takes in his $3,000 suit and the leggy blonde that's watching curiously from the lounge area. "Whatever you're doing now, it looks like it's treating you well."

"I can't complain." He glances guiltily in the direction of his date. "I better ..."

"Yeah, you better," Reese advises, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it on Elena's shoulders to cover the cold patch of wet fabric down her back.

Adam retrieves the fresh drinks the bartender has poured for him. "Put their tab on mine," he instructs. "And another round of what they were having." He smiles at Elena. "It's really great seeing you, Ellie."

"You, too, Adam."

"Take care, Rooney."

"Saunders," Reese acknowledges.


"So you worked on Wall Street?" Elena asks as they walk to their building about an hour later.

"For about two days," he admits. "I think I still have my suit somewhere. Glen check. I should break it out sometime. Give Lionel a run for his money."

"No, I like your look, John. Classic, remember? Lionel's right, you should trademark it."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. "I like your look, too, El."

She's still wearing his suit jacket, though it's comically large on her, reaching nearly as low as the hem of her dress. Her fingers don't even peek past the cuffs of the sleeves.

"The $10 Target dress baptized with a $15 cocktail look? Sure."

True to form, her heel chooses that moment to land on a crack in the sidewalk. Normally, that would result in a twisted ankle, scraped knees and palms, and a severely bruised ego. But with John Reese at her side, she remains upright.

More than upright, actually. For a few seconds, her toes hover off the ground as, lightning fast, Reese's arm wraps around her waist to steady her.

"All right?" he asks, allowing her feet to touch the ground again but not removing his arm.

"Yes," she says, only slightly breathless. "Thank you."

"It's my job," he answers cheekily.

"Yeah, you'll have to tell me more about that job someday, Detective Riley. Or is it Mr. Rooney?"

"Someday," he promises vaguely.

For the rest of the walk back, he keeps his arm around her. To keep her safe from another stumble, of course.


A/Ns:

From Nautilus (s4e02)

Fusco: What is that, some kind of puzzle? Like a jumble? I'm not half bad at those.

Reese: Half bad doesn't mean good.

From Risk (s1e16)

Adam: Outstanding. I'll be spending two days with hair gel and a pinstriped suit.

Reese: It's Glen check, actually. John Rooney, assets.