Reese had just finished tying up (in this case literally) their most recent number and was headed back towards his apartment to attempt a bit of sleep. Knowing that good sleep was vital if he wanted to function at full capacity, John had been growing more and more frustrated with himself as it continued to elude him for the past week. He mentioned this to his therapist and she suggested it might have something to do with his recent loss and how he was not allowing himself to grieve properly. But thus far he hadn't opened up to her about such matters. She told him that if he was unwilling or uncomfortable talking to her, that he should definitely talk to a friend. Someone who had been through similar experiences. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should just finally spill his guts...

John shook these thoughts from his mind as he entered his apartment. No, there was no one he could talk to about this. It was just too painful. First Jess, then Carter, and now... Had he let himself grieve over any of them? He didn't want to let himself feel that pain. So he threw himself into his work, again and again. But now, after Shaw, it was different somehow. He didn't think he could survive simply blocking it out again. Not when he didn't even know if she was alive or dead. This time, there was no closure.

But who was there to talk to? To open up to and feel every raw and aching emotion with such intense and painful clarity? There was no one. No one except-

"Mr Reese?"

"Finch, is there another number?" John was relieved at this interruption to his dark thoughts. Even though he had just taken off his shoes and slipped out of his jacket, he would be grateful for a distraction. He wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway.

"No, I just wanted to congratulate you on the timely dispatch of our most recent case. It was a job well done."

Reese was a bit surprised, his employer didn't normally call just to praise him. It was unusual, but he wasn't about to start complaining.

"Uh, thank you?" He replied as soon as he found his voice again. "What's this about, Finch?"

"Nothing. Well, I did read an article recently. There was this study that showed when employers praised the work of their employees more often, the employees improved in their overall work output."

So that's what it was.

Reese grinned, "oh, now I see how it is."

"Not that I don't mean every word that I just said! Your work is always far above adequate."

"Don't worry about it, Finch. I understand."

He heard Finch sigh through the speaker. "Forget I said anything."

There was quiet after that. Reese suddenly felt a burning need to confirm something.

"Finch, you still there?"

"Yes."

"We're- we are friends, right?" He felt entirely strange now asking it and hoped he hadn't made a mistake.

"I should hope so given everything we've been through together." He sounded amused, if somewhat confused, which was an enormous relief to John. It hadn't been a bad question after all.

"Yes, it has been an awful lot, hasn't it..." Reese closed his eyes and smiled.

"I believe it's my turn to ask what this is about now, John." Finch said gently.

John seriously considered being perfectly honest, but this was not something you chatted about over the phone. He sighed, the by now familiar ache in his chest settling painfully over his heart.

"It's nothing," he finally said unconvincingly.

"Hmm," unsurprisingly, Finch was unconvinced. "Well, as a friend, you can come to me about anything, John, if you need to."

Now Reese was thoroughly shocked. "Finch, I..." He was at a loss for words.

"Now, you should really get some rest, Mr. Reese. The city never sleeps, after all, and I suspect we'll have another number soon enough."

"Yeah," John couldn't find anything else to say. His mind was in a jumble and his emotions threatened to overflow.

And then the call ended.

Reese suddenly found himself sitting with his head in his hands, trying to gather himself back together. He wasn't quite sure what he was feeling. Relief, happiness, and painful sorrow all mixed together in a cocktail most confusing. He couldn't go on like this, he decided. He trusted Finch with his life. It was time to trust him with his pain. Tomorrow he would tell him everything, though he was sure Finch already knew most.

Tomorrow he would begin to break some old habits.

That night, Reese slept soundly.

~~~~~((?¿?))~~~~~

The next day turned out to be exceptionally busy for Reese, or rather, for his cover identity, detective Riley. He had a mountain of paper work to complete and nothing to distract him from it. Reese was itching for the moment when Finch would call him with a new number and a new mission, an opportunity to have the talk he'd thought about that night, but the call never came. He was left stewing in his thoughts for the better half of the day.

"Hey, Mr. Sunshine." It was Fusco who ended up breaking through the never ending cycle of regret and pain that went on in his mind.

"Yes, Lionel?" He responded wearily.

"You should take a breather, you're starting to darken the entire room. I can cover for you while you're out."

Reese got up to leave, not about to argue. But Fusco stood in his way.

"Listen, I know it's none of my business, but as a friend I gotta say it. Go have a long chat with Glasses. A heart-to-heart or whatever you wanna call it. You're in pain and I get that, but I know you'll never talk to me, so... Take my advice and talk to him."

John gave Fusco a long and searching look before nodding. Satisfied, Fusco moved on and started to get back to work. Before he was out of earshot, however, Reese spoke up;

"Thank you."

Surprised, Fusco turned around, but Reese was already gone. New habits, it was never too late to start.

Reese found Finch in their new underground headquarters. He was sitting at the computers doing research. John had brought him his favorite tea, just like old times.

"Mr. Reese, I wasn't expecting you here." Finch was surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

"I thought we might have a new number."

"I would have called you if that were the case."

Reese sighed and took a seat close by. He supposed that now was the time to talk. But for some reason, even when the opportunity had finally presented itself, he found no words to say. His mind was blank and his chest ached, so he simply sat. At least it was not an uncomfortable silence. John felt no rush to begin what would quickly become an arduous journey of painful emotions. And so they remained in companionable silence. Finch occasionally tapping at his keyboard and John deep in contemplation.

"Shouldn't you be at work as detective Riley?" Finch asked curiously after a time.

"Decided I needed a break," he replied. "What about you, Professor Whistler?"

"Classes are finished for the day." He said simply.

Silence fell again. Reese decided he'd better start before he could change his mind. Starting was always the hardest, but if he could begin this conversation, he was sure everything would start to change. And he desperately hoped it would be change for the better.

"Finch," he began, somehow packing that one word with a world of emotions.

The man turned to him, a questioning look on his face.

"Have you ever... lost someone so important to you, that it feels like you've lost an entire limb?" Reese hardly knew what he was saying, but it felt right.

"Yes." Finch replied quietly.

"It's like, a part of yourself is just gone. And it hurts. Sometimes, it gets so painful you can't feel anything anymore."

"I know." Harold's voice was only a whisper now.

There was a pause as Reese recovered himself. He wasn't sure where he was going with all of this. But Finch hadn't stopped him yet. So he would just have to keep going.

"Is it- is it all right if I... Talk to you about Jess?"

Finch nodded, "of course."

And so he talked. He told Harold everything. From the day they met to the day he left her and then when he found out about her death. He even told him about everything in between. Every mission, every kill, everything. He talked and talked and talked. About how much he'd loved her, how much he'd hated himself, how much he'd suppressed. How he convinced himself he was aiding his country. How he convinced himself he was doing right by her. How every kill seemed to steal away a small part of him. How her death had taken what he thought was the last bit of goodness left to him.

And after all of that, he talked about his time on the run and how he'd first met Carter. He told him how he felt before and after Finch found him. When he discovered that he could still be the good guy. It didn't matter that Finch already knew most of his story. Knowing facts was different from knowing emotions and John was baring his soul to Harold now. He told him how his relationship with Joss developed. When he finally realized that he loved her. And then he talked about their final moments together. How that had been too much pain to bear.

And finally, he talked about Shaw. How losing her that way destroyed him. Was still destroying him.

Finch didn't say a word all through this. He watched as Reese slowly disassembled the walls he had so carefully built. He watched as one of the bravest men he knew revealed just how broken he was. He watched as his friend broke down and truly cried for what was probably the first time in a long time.

Without a word, Harold stood and moved to sit next to John. Not quite sure what the correct thing to do in this type of situation was, he hesitantly placed a hand on the weeping man's shoulder. Reese leaned into him slightly, grateful for any kind of comfort, although he did not believe he deserved it. Harold found himself crying as well and, without thinking, wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him into a proper hug.

They stayed that way for a long time. Each receiving some much needed comfort from the other.

~~~~~((FIN))~~~~~