Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 49: mid Karma
Reese and Fusco wait outside the Primrose Court Hotel for Dr. Iris Campbell, their ticket into a gala where the latest Number is the featured speaker.
"It really had to be black tie?" Fusco grumbles, adjusting his cummerbund.
They and all the other attendees filing into the hotel glance up as the roar of an engine and squealing tires announce the arrival of a flashy sports coupe that zips right to the front of the valet line.
"You know, there are lines for a reason," the passenger of the car is saying as one of the attendants opens her door and helps her out.
"And there are tips for a reason," the driver answers as he hands a hefty one to the valet.
Dressed in a royal blue cocktail dress that suits her perfectly, Elena Cassidy rolls her eyes as she takes Adam Saunders' offered arm. "If you think that's going to impress me —"
"It's working?" he asks hopefully.
She considers. "Maybe just a little bit."
He grins.
They turn to go up the steps and nearly run into —
"Roo—?"
"Detective Riley!" Elena exclaims, smoothly cutting off Adam with a hard squeeze of his arm. "John, Lionel, what are you doing here?"
"Attending the same penguin party, apparently," Fusco says as his partner and Elena's date size each other up.
"Adam, this is John Riley and Lionel Fusco. They're both homicide detectives at the NYPD." Her hand remains on Adam's arm, imploring him to go along with it. "Lionel was my father's old partner. And John is, um —"
Her mind blanks, unable to describe what John is to her.
Thankfully, the arrival of a very pretty redhead saves Elena.
"Good to see you're making friends already, Detective Riley," Iris says approvingly.
"Elena, this is Dr. Iris Campbell. Iris, Elena Cassidy. We ... live in the same building," he says truthfully, carefully avoiding Elena's gaze.
Elena's nonexistent poker face betrays a look of recognition that the psychiatrist thankfully misses. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Campbell," she greets brightly.
Further introductions and pleasantries are exchanged as they walk into the hotel and fall in line at the coat check.
"Don't tell me I've landed on your most wanted list because I asked Ellie Cassidy out on a date," Saunders mutters to Reese as Fusco entertains the ladies with a story.
"Oh, is this a date?" Reese asks innocently.
"Isn't it?" Saunders counters with a significant glance at Iris.
"Work related."
"Does she know that?" Saunders' glance pointedly shifts to Elena.
There's no chance to reply as they reach the front of the line. Saunders and Reese continue to size each other up as they help their respective dates out off their coats.
Iris and Elena compliment each other's dresses since their respective dates are too busy glaring at each other, and leave the boys to wrestle with their own coats. Reese watches them ago with a bit chagrin. Elena could befriend anyone in minutes, it seems.
"We're at Table 12," Iris informs Reese and Fusco.
"And we're at 2," Elena says, taking the arm Adam is offering to her.
"It was nice meeting you, Detective," Adam says with irony that only Reese and Elena catch.
"It was really nice to meet you, Iris," Elena says brightly. "See you around, Lionel. John."
"Thank you so much for going along with that," she whispers to Adam. "I can't really explain, but —"
"You don't have to," he says. "I know I said I worked with John, but it's more complicated than that. Remember when I said working on Wall Street wasn't good for my health? I meant it. It nearly got me killed. He came out of nowhere and saved my life."
Elena sighs, half in relief and half in exasperation. Is there anyone left in New York City that didn't know John in some way, shape, or form?
"But how do you know him, Ellie? You know he's not really a cop, right?"
"He's ..." Again, her mind blanks. Then she remembers how he'd introduced her to Iris. "He's my neighbor."
"Thanks for getting me in, Doc," Reese tells Iris as he escorts her to their table.
"You're the one doing me a favor. The NYPD has a table at this gala every year. I'm always looking for people willing to come represent the precinct.
He glances across the ballroom as he helps Iris to her seat and sees Adam doing the same for Elena at a table near the front of the room. Elena laughs at something he says, and they clink glasses.
"It's good to see your empathetic side, John," Iris continues. "Shows real progress."
"I'm glad I could join you," he says.
"A compliment might not be amiss," Finch advises in his ear.
"You look stunning, by the way," he adds.
"And it's good to see this other side of you, too," she says approvingly.
"I feel like a waiter in this thing," Fusco says as he arrives with drinks. "You know, I don't think I've worn a cummerbund since senior prom," he adds as an aside to Finch.
"You're welcome, detective," Finch replies. "Where is Edwards now?"
"Don't worry, Finch," Reese assures him as Edwards takes his place at the podium. "Got eyes on him."
Reese zones out as their Number begins speaking, describing how he met his wife at the Botanical Garden. His eyes drift to Elena and Adam, who are listening attentively, Adam's arm draped casually across the back of Elena's chair, resting against her shoulders.
Luckily, their Number's speech is short. Unluckily, the man accused and imprisoned for killing Edwards' wife years ago shows up and confronts Edwards, and Elena and Adam have a front-row seat to the altercation. Elena meets John's eyes across the ballroom as the uninvited guest is escorted out. Suddenly, his and Lionel's presence at this gala makes a lot more sense.
The party unravels fairly quickly after that, and is completely thrown into chaos when Edwards' car explodes in the parking lot just as all the guests are leaving.
It's 2:30 a.m. by the time Reese and Fusco finish questioning Edwards.
Before they can exit the bullpen, however, an officer stops them. "Your last witnesses are still on ice, Detectives."
Fusco and Reese glance over at the waiting area, where a tired-looking Elena and Saunders wave in unison.
"Right. If you'll step this way?" Fusco requests politely, gesturing to one of the interrogation rooms.
They go through the motions of asking them a few questions. Well, Fusco leaves most of the questioning to his partner and sits back to enjoy the show. John Reese always did perform well in front of an audience.
"Is that all, Detective?" Adam asks, skeptically using Reese's title as they walk back into the bullpen.
"I think so. We'll be in touch if we need to, Mr., uh," Reese makes a show of checking the file. "Saunders."
Elena rolls her eyes and implores Fusco for help, but he cowardly backs away and makes a quick escape.
"Come on, Ellie, I'll take you home," Adam says, holding out his jacket for her. They'd not been able to get their coats in the confusion after the explosion.
"No need," Reese says, dropping his own jacket onto her shoulders without preamble. "We live in the same building," he reminds.
"Oh, that part's true?" Adam retorts.
Elena inserts herself between them. "Could you give us a minute?" she asks Reese before leading Adam out of the station.
"Look, Ellie, I don't know what's going on between you and Rooney —"
"Riley."
"Right. Whatever his name is. He saved my life once, so I will gladly step out of the way ... but only if that's what you want."
Elena glances thoughtfully at Reese, who'd followed them out and isn't even being subtle about eavesdropping.
"Have you ever been to the Botanical Garden?" she asks Adam.
"Uh, once, maybe?" Adam answers, confused by the sudden change in topic. "Why —?"
"Do you want to go this weekend? We can make a whole day of it." She gives him a small smile. "It would be nice if our first date didn't end with a car bomb and a night at the police station."
A smile slowly spreads across Adam's face, and he nods. "Agreed. Pick you up at, say, 10 on Saturday?"
"Yes, see you then, Adam."
With a lingering look, Adam heads to his car and Elena heads toward John's.
"Home, please?" she says tiredly.
Elena finds the energy to keep up a stream of useless chatter all the way back to their building. It's a skill she's honed over years of attending dinner parties as Ken's plus-one and entertaining people in waiting rooms as a receptionist. Alone in the car with John, the alternative is either silence or the temptation to discuss Important Things, so ... she prattles on.
Finally, they make it to their building. They pause at her door, and Elena finally runs out of things to say. In the awkward silence that follows, she removes his coat and presses it back into his hands.
Her hands linger against his much longer than necessary as they finally look at each other.
"Elena —"
A look of panic crosses her face, and it stops him cold. He's reminded of the night she had tried to stop him from going to find Shaw, when she'd recoiled from him, terror in her eyes, thinking he'd been about to strike her.
"Good night, John," is all she says before she slips inside with a swiftness that would put an internationally trained spy to shame.
But something in her tone tells him that her door wasn't the only thing she'd closed between them.
