Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team. Bolded sections are straight from the episodes.
QUEENSBRIDGE PARK
Chapter 64: after Reassortment
Trigger warning: Talk of suicide attempts
Reese enters the bullpen and stops short at the sight of Fusco cleaning out his desk.
"What happened? Did you get fired?" he quips.
Fusco isn't playing. "Reassigned. New partner, new desk. Upon request."
"You asked for a new partner?" Reese asks, not even bothering to hide the hurt in his voice.
"Time I work with somebody who appreciates me, shares information instead of keeping secrets."
Reese closes the distance between them. He and Finch had been doing their best to keep Fusco off Samaritan's radar, but they'd had another close call last night at the hospital, where a Samaritan agent had injected Fusco with a deadly virus. Thankfully Root and the Machine had found the proper antiviral in time.
"I told you, this is for your own good," Reese insists. "That nurse at the hospital, she ended up with permanent kidney damage."
"That was a one-sided conversation, in case you've forgotten."
"Did Elias help you track down Jeff?" Their Number, who had ended up dying at the hospital.
Fusco smirks humorlessly. "You know how I found him? I'm a detective, that's how. Do me a favor. Don't tell me not to do my job." He grabs the police doll with a hidden camera that Finch and Reese had given him years ago and holds it up. "Find a new partner," he says as he drops it into the trash.
On his way home, Reese picks up Elena's favorite takeout to get back in her good graces. Breakfast that morning ... had been less enjoyable than they usually made it.
Namely because she'd found out only then that he'd been quarantined in the hospital all day yesterday because of the deadly virus ... and only because it had been on the news while they were having breakfast.
She'd gotten him back, though, by straightening her hair and slipping on her 'Elena Clark' glasses on her way out the door to her latest work placement.
And now he had to tell her that Lionel had just dumped him as a partner.
But when he gets to her apartment, he doesn't think all the orange chicken in the world will help.
There are raised voices coming from within. In any other situation, he would have run in, guns blazing. But he recognizes both voices.
"What is this?" Fusco is demanding. "What the hell is this, Ellie?"
"Oh, are you going through my cabinets now, Detective?" Elena demands.
"I figured I should, just to make sure you don't have any extra bottles of hydrocodone lying around that you can accidentally overdose on."
It's a low blow, and Elena seems too shocked to reply. And Reese would have gone in then, if not for what Fusco says next.
"But this is a much more dangerous substance, isn't it? This is my ex partner's hair gel."
Reese closes his eyes. He doesn't have many possessions to leave lying around Elena's apartment, but Fusco always proves to be a much better detective than he ever gets credit for.
"What ... what do you mean 'ex partner'?" Elena asks.
"Exactly what it means. I finally got fed up with all the secrets. It's hard knowing your partner, the guy who's supposed to have your back no matter what, is keeping you in the dark. But you know what? It's harder when it's a friend you've known her entire life."
"Lionel —"
"I guess that's fitting. He's been screwing you behind my back. You both have been screwing me over and stabbing me in the back this whole time, haven't you? Having a good laugh over keeping dumb old Lionel in the dark?"
"You want to talk about keeping people in the dark, Lionel?" she asks, her voice vibrating in rage. "Let's talk about how you lied to me about how my father died! Let's talk about how you helped cover up his death, and that's the reason why I was nearly killed a few weeks ago!"
"I'm sorry about that, Ellie. Believe me. I would take it back if I could. But things were complicated and dangerous —"
"And what if that's exactly why John hasn't told you what you want to know?"
Fusco is silent for a long moment, and Reese thinks Elena's finally gotten through to him. But then —
"He hasn't told you anything either, has he?" Fusco realizes. "You're in the dark just as much as me."
Elena doesn't answer.
"That should bother you, Ellie. You're with someone who is keeping things from you. Lying to you."
Reese can't bring himself to interrupt before hearing Elena's reply.
"That's the thing, Lionel. John never lies to me. And I don't think he's lied to you either. He might not tell us the whole truth, but I think that's to protect us. And I trust him."
"Well, that makes one of us."
The door jerks open. Fusco hesitates only for a second before he roughly shoulders past Reese without a word.
Reese slowly walks into Elena's apartment. She's still dressed for work, though she's not wearing her fake glasses anymore. Her posture is so tense, it looks like one touch could shatter her, though he knows she's stronger than that.
She gives him a helpless look. "I'm guessing you heard all that?"
"I'm guessing the whole floor heard all that, El," he says gently.
"Great. Mrs. Peters probably is going to file a noise complaint."
"Well." He shrugs. "Wouldn't be the first time."
That brings a small smile to her face. Usually she's the one trying to tease him into blushing.
He picks up his gel lying in the middle of the hallway where Fusco had dropped it. "I'm sorry, El."
"Never thought you'd be the one to give it away," she sighs.
"Lionel's a great detective."
He sets the takeout bag and the bottle on the counter, and takes her into his arms. She goes willingly.
"I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I think you two are really great partners, in a weirdly dysfunctional way."
"He shouldn't have spoken to you like that, no matter how angry he is at me."
"Honestly, can you blame him? He's my friend, you're his partner."
"We don't need his permission."
"No, but he was our biggest cheerleader," she points out. "And we kept it from him."
Reese does feel another twinge of guilt at that. "I don't know about biggest. There's Finch."
"And Bear?"
"Bear's our mascot."
Elena laughs, but it ends in a sigh. She reaches up and rests her arms on his shoulders, which she can only do because she's still wearing her heels. She twines her fingers behind his head.
"You know Lionel. He's not going to stop."
"He has to, or he's going to get himself killed."
"Harder to stop him now that he's not talking to both of us."
She looks away, trying to come up with a solution. Reese takes in her tired expression, the dark circles under her eyes. He'd like to think they were the result of those previous noise complaints filed by Mrs. Peters, but he knows they're caused by sleepless nights and constant worry over him.
"You worry too much, El," he says, cupping her cheek, thumb tracing the edges of the tired mark under her eye.
"Says the man who's made it his job to worry about every other person in New York City." She frowns. "So what happens now? You and Lionel always had each other's backs, no matter what."
"I'll still have his back," he assures her.
"But who will have yours?"
"You."
"Always."
An hour later, they're sitting on the couch, empty orange chicken containers on the table.
The TV's off, no music is playing. They're sitting in silence, but silence has never bothered Elena when she's with John. So she's surprised when he breaks it.
"I'm sorry, El."
She lifts her head from his shoulder. "Two apologies in one day? What's this one for?"
"That I can't tell you everything."
She gives him a sad smile. "Those secrets Lionel's mad about, they're the same ones you can't tell me?"
He nods, watching her reaction.
She rests her head back on his shoulder.
"What you told Lionel is right, though. I've never lied to you."
"I know." The corners of her mouth twitch upward. "I hate to be the one to break this to you, John, but lying isn't your strong suit."
"That makes two of us." He looks down at her. "I'll never lie to you," he promises.
Her smile turns wistful. "Not even if you think you're doing it to protect me?"
He winces. "I should've told you about what happened in the hospital. That wasn't about keeping you safe. I just didn't want you to worry."
"I'm going to worry anyway, John. Might as well know what I'm worrying about. "
"Fair enough. Same goes for Elena Clark."
"Deal."
Her fingers toy with the buttons of his shirt, but not in the usual flirtatious way. Her expression is still serious, brow slightly furrowed.
"John? I asked you something once, when I was in Italy. You told me you'd tell me someday."
He knows exactly what she's talking about. He can feel her eyes tracing over his features.
"Is it someday yet?" she whispers.
Finally, he nods.
And so he tells her, about the two times he's officially died.
The first time, in 2005, had been so he could start working for the CIA with a completely new identity.
The second time, in 2010, he'd been told to kill Stanton, his CIA partner, who'd gotten the same orders. They'd both failed, but that was beside the point. CIA operative John Reese had died in Ordos, China.
And then, after a few moments' hesitation, he tells her about the two times he'd wished he'd died.
After Jessica.
After Joss.
And a few more pieces of the perpetual puzzle that is John Reese falls into place.
"Jessica. She's the one in the photo with you?"
He nods.
"She looked lovely."
"She was."
They settle back into silence, but she can feel his eyes studying her now.
"Why did you keep that photo?" he finally asks.
"Oh ... well, because you looked so ... different," she says lamely.
"Different?"
"Young. Carefree. Happy." She shrugs. "I ... liked knowing you were like that once."
"Once," he agrees, and she suppresses a wistful sigh. He ponders over her words. "I don't think I'll be young or carefree again," he confesses, and her lips quirk upward as she reaches up and toys with those few stubborn strands of salt and pepper hair that always stick up near his temple. "But happy ... I think I could try that."
Elena feels her heart leap, and she smiles brightly, even as tears prick her eyes. She settles back against him, even closer than before, and his arm curls more tightly around her.
"El?"
He feels her nod.
"What about you?" he asks her softly. "Did you ever think about it again?"
He feels her stiffen, and that's really answer enough. He holds her impossibly close.
"The first few weeks in Italy were ... hard," she says inadequately. "Moving helped me not think about Mikey, and Ken, and Grandma, and Bailey, but once I was there ..."
He can't hold her any tighter.
"What stopped you?"
She smiles tremulously. "You see, this guy kept on calling me. And the world seemed a little less dark whenever we talked."
And so they sit there, holding each other together, as they've done since they first met.
A/N:
"For a spy, lying isn't your strong suit."
—Carter to Reese, in Terra Incognita (s4e20)
