Chapter Seven (No More Mr. Nice Guy….)
The silence was not only tense, it was beyond brittle.
John Reese sighed, leaning his arm on the concrete pillar base of the building in which he stood. He had left Davidivitch in Carter's care because he wanted to check out the security on Thomas Cain's Penthouse apartment. Which was state of the art, but easily penetrated for a man of Reese's talents.
Thomas Cain was the least of Reese's problems at the moment.
Harold Finch drove mechanically, accustomed now to his brand new 2012 Escalade, his mind on other things. The Expansion Bridge was a massive six lane tollway which headed North and South. At the moment, Finch was on his way out of the city. John Reese had explained the logistics of their new problem just hours ago.
If Harold had cause to doubt the topics discussed in the previous conversation, he was now witnessing first hand, the reality.
Reese had said, sooner or later, the woman would begin to experience the after effects of her recent ordeal. The shock would have worn off. Her mind would finally start to function properly again. To any normal human, that meant..an attempt to process that which had little meaning.
It could be a frustrating, terrifying time for any person, let alone, a female.
Reese could no longer recall such emotions. He remembered his first kill but the physical aspect of the moment was lost long ago. He knew there were certain stages one had to pass through after such a traumatic event. And he knew, it was now Cordelia Fellows 'time'.
Harold glanced yet again to the girl next to him, noting the tightly clenched fist lying next to her thigh on the lush Corinthian leather seat. The bloodless fingers tightened so tensely, the small appendage was visibly shaking.
Cordelia's profile was turned aside. One might have assumed she was merely taking in the passing scenery.
But, Finch sensed differently. She was weeping, silently granted..only an occasional sniff, a slight catch of her breath, giving her secret away.
"Well, say something, Finch!" Reese had listened to the strained silence for several miles now, waiting for the other man to jump in.
Finch had tried, unsuccessfully, a few times, to ease the horribly awkward silence between the two but the man's social graces were definitely lacking in this situation for some obscure reason.
Reese knew Harold had preferred if Taylor Davidivitch had been the one to accompany him because Finch had no difficulty dealing with sarcasm. Carter had whisked Taylor away, leaving Cordelia and the 'geek guy' standing on the sidewalk outside the town house.
After one or two brief faux smiles of 'hello'..Finch had helped the woman into his car, then both had sped away to a prearranged place of safety.
The drive had been a silent one on both ends. Cordelia had fallen into an awkward lull, and as the minutes passed, in which Finch could think of no small talk to ease the situation, the girl's mood had escalated into a deep depressive 'quiet'.
"..Ms. Fellows.." he began only to stop cold, as Cordelia had started jerkily at the sound of his voice, which seemed ridiculously loud after so long a period of silence.
Finch altered his tone and manner, for she had quickly swiped at her cheeks, turning hastily away, even moreso than she had before, to hide her present state.
She cleared her throat gently, striving for normalcy. "..Y-Yes, Mr. Finch?" she managed a polite reply but kept her face averted.
"Tell her everything is going to be alright." Reese instructed, giving a solid starting point.
"..I..know how you must be feeling." Harold thought another tactic would be more effective.
Reese closed his eyes for a beat, shaking his head slowly. "No..Harold." he corrected, his tone a weary one. "You don't."
Cordelia had turned slowly, her look an incredulous one. "..Do you?" she asked, her tone ..odd. "Do you really, Mr. Finch?"
The green eyes were vacant..dead.
"Well..no, I suppose I.."
"Do you want to know the worst part?" the girl asked shakily. He glanced at the tear tracks on the chalky face.
"..I can't imagine what it might be." He told the truth. "..Will you tell me?" he asked, in that refined, civilized way Reese admired so about the man.
Cordelia's bottom lip trembled uncontrollably. "..It was..the way his body just..lay there. So..still." she swallowed hastily, her eyes darting about frantically, her body coiled, stiffly..alert. "..At that impossibly unnatural angle."
Reese stood inside the glass and steel building that was the headquarters for Thomas Cain Enterprises. He watched people come and go in the busy intersection of the top floor offices, having just stepped from the elevator.
He listened to Cordelia's hauntingly moving soliloquy, his own mood lowering just a tad. He was sorry the woman had to witness the events that had gone down that night. Better a witness than a victim, he reminded himself but still..he felt bad.
Because he knew, with certainty..she was back in that damned apartment right now..reliving the horror.
"I..write scenes like that all the time and never once did I imagine..the insidious..quiet." she continued as if she really had no choice.
Reese glanced down the side of the skyscraper, for he had made his way to the 'observation deck' of the stately tower. The traffic looked like Mattel toys, people..mere dots. Heights never bothered him. Cordelia's tone..did.
"Mr. Reese seems so..normal." she continued, having forgotten the blue tooth connection momentarily. "So..nice but, he can't be.." she sought Harold Finch's input. "Can he? Normal people can't do..what it is he does, can they?"
"Mr. Reese is a unique individual." Finch stated quietly, driving with the flow of the traffic. "With very special skills. Ones which he used in your behalf, Ms. Fellows." He turned a chastising glance her way.
"I know..that." she sat back, drained. "I..didn't mean.."
Clearly she felt horrible, torn between her new found loyalty to John Reese for having saved her life and..the reality of what it was the man was capable of.
"This all must be very unsettling for you and Ms. Davidivitch." Harold acknowledged. "You both have held up remarkably well under the circumstances."
The unexpected compliment threw both Reese and the woman.
Cordelia made a concerted effort to pull herself together, embarrassed for her lapse before this man. "..Davy has."
"And you. Don't forget," Harold stated. "Ms. Davidivitch did not experience the..reality of this dreadful situation as did you." He made mention with a movement of his head, his eyes rarely leaving the roadway or traffic around them.
The woman wiped her cheeks, vain enough to realize her physical appearance was..lacking. "I..I must look like one of the walking dead which, I am given to understand, is quite fashionable these days, granted, but.." she sought about the empty floor board vainly. "I do wish I had my purse." She tried a small smile. "Women are such vain creatures, are they not, Mr. Finch. I do apologize for my..ingratitude and my lapse."
She spoke rapidly, sentences overlapping. "And my appearance. I would like to lie and say, my hair generally looks so much better but, what you see is what you get, I'm afraid." She held the long strands out on either side of her small head, woefully examining the condition of the lush, deep curls. "First the rain and now..no curling iron. A woman's worse nightmare."
Reese's mouth quirked slightly, amused for the woman's words. He watched the two guards go about their routine, oblivious to his presence. Just the way he liked it. Thomas Cain's security was so incredibly predictable.
"Not the worst, Ms. Fellows." Harold recalled her previous mood, having been somewhat touched by the simplicity of how she had stated it all. He offered a sympathetic nod of acknowledgement, then brightened somewhat. "..Your hair is lovely, by the way."
Reese's brows lifted at the totally out of character remark. He kept quiet though. Cordelia could use a little light banter along about now, he thought.
Cordelia herself was more than surprised at the statement, her expression saying as much. She stared wide-eyed at the man beside her.
"One likens it to.." Harold mused openly, tilting his head to the side a bit. "..A Botticelli painting," He swept the long, flowing mass with an artist's appreciation before returning his interest to the road. "The Birth Of Venus, perhaps."
Reese's brows inched higher and he viewed his boss in a new light.
Cordelia swallowed hard and blushed profusely, her tongue suddenly very much..tied.
"It's very..nice." Harold returned to normal to everyone's great relief. "It looks..just fine."
"Good start, Harold." Reese could not resist giving his opinion. "Crappy finish."
Finch tweaked his head a tad, feeling the brunt of his inadequacies. "Perhaps a change of scenery will help stabilize your emotional state." Reese and he had discussed as much. And he thought a change of subject was in order, anyway.
"My..emotional sta.." Cordelia blinked, a little thrown.
"You are a female, thusly entitled to an occasional.."
"Change the subject, Harold." Reese cringed for the other man. "FAST."
"..I think you will approve of the place we go." Harold heeded the warning, post haste. "It is by a lake..very tranquil. Of course, this time of year, it is probably not at it's best. Although the fall foliage may remain. It is early October yet, after all."
Cordelia held her smile. "You are a very intelligent man, Sir." She applauded his quick thinking, amused at how effortlessly he had gotten himself out of that one.
She knew she had acted the idiot and now, was paying the price. He thought her an over-emotional female unable to curb her emotions. She could not fault him for that assumption. "..It sounds beautiful, Mr. Finch. What a very kind thing to do. You and Mr. Reese were ever 'kind', of course. I do not know why I should be so surprised by such generosity of spirit."
"She talks funny." Reese was tiring of his assignment, looking around for somewhere to eat.
"You speak as if from another Century, Ms. Fellows." Harold put it more acceptably. "Which is quite a charming trait, actually. You write in the same style, I have noted."
"I KNEW you had read her stuff!" Reese gloated, joining the crowd taking the elevators down to the fifth floor where a restaurant awaited.
"D-Do I?" Cordelia's blush had returned two fold. Her hand fluttered gracefully to her throat which was still bruised and scratched beneath the collar of the black trench coat. "Well, I..most of my novels are set in the Eighteenth Century. I suppose I have a tendency to.. 'think' in that time period's frame." She chuckled, self-depreciatingly. "How embarrassing."
"Not at all." Finch disagreed, pulling the car off the Interstate unto an off-ramp. He drove parallel to the faster moving traffic they had just left, easing the car into a more sedate pace. The trees were abundantly vibrant with hues of oranges, reds and yellows. The scenery took Cordelia's breath away.
"The beauty of the English language is lost on this generation." Harold continued his lecture. "Texting will soon put an end to any thought of proper spelling, grammar or punctuation, I dare say."
"Oh.." Reese looked for a place to set and place his order, finding one over by the lunch counter. A small table with two chairs, as yet unoccupied. He headed that way, making a path through the many tables and chairs already taken. "IDK." He quipped, keeping his voice low, his grin, private. "Wat up wid dat, Dawg?" he posed the universal question and his doubts that Finch's prophecy would come to be. "Cut me some slack, Jack!"
"WTF." Harold responded in kind, just managing to keep the irony from his voice.
"LOL." Reese grinned openly, amused for the audacity of Harold Finch's reply.
"Stop it." Finch stated blandly, the exchange ended for his part. "..It's been years since last I visited the cabin." He turned his attention back to the woman beside him.
Cordelia's head had whipped about at the rather vulgar expression then realized.. "Oh, no." she whispered the realization. Mr. Reese was on line with the other man. Had he heard her unforgivable remarks? And what in God's name were they discussing now? What an odd exchange.
Harold ignored the stricken expression, for he sensed it's source. "There is a caretaker. I have failed to notify him of our arrival so we may be forced to rough it for a spell until I can get the generator going."
"Do you even know HOW to 'rough it', Finch?" Reese seriously doubted it.
"You would be surprised, Mr. Reese." Harold replied evenly. "Detective Carter has a day job. Why don't you go relieve her of her responsibilities, as you seem pre-possessed to have time on your hands today."
"But, I haven't eaten, Finch." Reese was enjoying the conversation a little too much in the other man's opinion. "I get a lunch break, right?"
"Pick up a burger on the way over." Finch clicked the blue tooth..off.
Reese chuckled his appreciation for the other man's 'style'. He went ahead and ordered the number eight anyway.
"Well, this is it." Harold stood in the center of the white washed rooms with their beaded board ceilings overhead. He lifted his hand slightly, encompassing the rooms about him. "Such as it is." He was rather apologetic to Cordelia's way of thinking.
But she was clearly enchanted with her new surroundings, her face alive with delight and joy. "Ohhh, Mr. Finch..it is absolutely..picturesque! How clever of you to think of the lighter wood."
"Not I." he sat his one sachel down, glancing about the cabin aimlessly. "I purchased it in this condition. I think they were going for 'Cape Cod Beach House'. Which makes perfect sense as we are a hundred miles from the nearest beach." He scowled. "More masculine furnishings might be in order."
"Yes." Cordelia mused thoughtfully, taking in the two vintage chairs with their matching coffee table which centered the living area before a comfortable looking divan of black woven material, complete with cushions of sand and grey stripes. "Wicker literally screams..Gay." she cut him a mischievous look.
"Or.. 'insolent female'." Harold lifted a scolding glare.
Cordelia, being properly chastised, returned to her perusal of her new environment.
Having stepped through rustic double doors with paned upper glass panels and antique hardware handles, she now wandered the cozy rooms, taking in the hardwood floors of pumpkin pine with it's gleaming soft luster.
A heavy woven rug of pristine 'oatmeal' hue warmed the living room which was home to the small hearth made of water and sand worn rocks that would have existed in the 1890's.
The kitchen, just off to the right of the entranceway with all the modern equipment, the white cream cabinets, a perfect fit to the darker island of teak wood and cast iron legs. Two wicker topped stools complimented the modern feel of the island.
Windows were abundant, allowing light into each nook and cranny, opaque shades of warm beige obscuring the amazing view of the lake and surrounding forests when privacy was called for.
"Please." He could see the woman was anxious to tour the upper levels, indicating she should follow her instincts. He followed along behind her as she climbed the first landing, above which hung an oval window, lovingly salvaged and restored by the man himself, to it's authentic beauty. The one piece in the entire house that was contributed by Harold. He had spent a few weeks up here after the accident, taking time to heal mentally and physically.
Inadvertently, his eyes caught sight of Cordelia's rather fetching backside as she moved higher up the stairs, taking her time, exploring the house's treasures as she went. The fact he noted such a thing at all shocked the man. Harold cleared his throat, his hand reaching, touching the frames of his glasses self-consciously.
He religiously disciplined his mind to safer subject matter. "The, eh..the holophane glass light fixtures date back to the Eighteen hundreds. I found them in an old home in town. It was being torn down but we managed to salvage a few interesting pieces."
The staircase opened into a large master suite, complete with gambrel roof line. Cordelia's eyes were drawn to the double bed, framed in brass splendor, a long pew-like wooden bench at it's foot. A sea star and shell rope garland hung off the end of the brass footboard, lending a definite charm to the inviting place of repose.
Suddenly the woman was more than conscious of the male standing next to her in the now, cramped space on the top landing. She blushed slightly, moving discretely for her shoulder had been touching his, the electric shock of contact confusing her mind.
An antique marble-topped baking table lined the wall to her left, She hurried over to touch the cool surface. "How lovely this is."
"That was actually found in the barn." He nodded slowly, offering an explanation. "it was in a rather dilapidated state but with a little work.." he motioned with his hand. "It turned out quite good, don't you think? And makes a quite functional desk."
Cordelia could see the second bedroom directly across the hall. Two twin four poster beds were tucked back into a cozy alcove, lined with windows, both with antique ship's trucks at the foot of the neatly made structures. "The entire house is absolutely amazing." She told the truth. "So many unique and delightful objects. You have exquisite taste, Mr. Finch."
"Harold." He inclined his head with a short bob, disliking the rather guarded way in which she spoke to him, in this instance. "Please. We shall be spending a bit of time together. Perhaps we can dispense with the ..formalities unless.." he put the question on the table, offering her a direct gaze. "you prefer.."
She smiled gently over at him. "No..I would like that." her smile widened slightly, but the emerald eyes dropped, shielding her eyes. "Actually. You..can call me Amanda, if you like. Most people find my real name..eh.." she sought the word. "Not acceptable. That's why I changed it, well..Davy changed it. She said, no one would buy a novel written by Cordelia 'anything'."
She laughed softly, seeking him out.
"I would." He firmly corrected the misconception, staring hard at her freckled face. Even without makeup, she was a lovely woman. He shook the moment determinedly. "..If you would like." He motioned to the smaller room across the hall. "You could make use of the guest bedroom, just there."
She glanced to his meaning.
"It is smaller but infinitely warmer at night and it does get rather chilly up here after the sun goes down." He warned. "I've been meaning to put central heat and air but.." he let it go.
"Are you tired?" she had noticed his limp was more pronounced coming up the long driveway to the house. Even parked close, the distance was a good hundred meters from the graveled path. And of course, the stairs had been a problem although he hid it well.
"Excuse me?" he stiffened, reverting to his more guarded self.
She wasn't sure how to put it, so she..lied. "It's been a long drive and I know you and Mr. Reese did not get much sleep last night."
"Oh." He had thought she had noticed his infirmary. "Well..we are used to..odd hours." He even managed a smile of sorts. "I am fine, thank you for asking. And you?"
"A little tired but I imagine we still have to get into town and there is that pesky generator to see to." She reminded, keeping her tone light, her mood carefully controlled. She liked his scent. It filled the room now. A musky, expensive cologne which reeked of..virility. Cordelia chastised herself for her thoughts and her inability to keep her cheeks from coloring from them.
She imagined this man was accustomed to the ultimate in 'sophisticated' women. How very gauche she must appear to him.
"I really wish you would allow me to..contact my bank, at least. Surely no one can trace such things."
"Why would you wish to contact your.." Harold was puzzled.
"Mr. Finch.." she held out her hands to her sides. "I..this is..all I have to wear."
He chuckled shortly for the problem was so obvious, he hadn't seen it. "It appears I shall be continuously purchasing you clothing, Ms. Fellows." He hated it that they were back to..square one. Ms. Fellows..Mr. Finch. He sighed lightly. "Of course, a trip into town is essential, is it not. We shall be needing provisions as well."
Cordelia relaxed a bit. "You are so fortunate to own so many amazing homes." She couldn't get enough of looking at this particular one.
"Yes." Harold rarely gave such things any real thought. "I suppose I am." He too, really took the time to look over his possession. Seeing it through someone else's eyes was very..eye opening. "I would say, take off your coat and make yourself at home but.." he quipped to lighten the moment.
Cordelia smiled at him, but pulled the long coat closer about her small frame. "Your Detective Carter is a most thorough individual."
"The first rule of thumb Mr. Reese taught me is..never leave your charge unprotected. I'm afraid you will have to endure my company for a bit longer." He stated. "You must accompany me. And as for the question of your bank? Monetary transactions can easily be traced..Cordelia." he firmly put things back on track. "You are a very independent female, it is apparent but for the time being, you must rely on our..organization which is well funded, I assure you, with generous expense accounts."
He made his way back down the stairs, turning sideways to glance back at her. "Just ask our Mr. Reese..who has no qualms what-so-ever about utilizing the funds provided."
"It's..unseemly, that's all." She followed slowly, allowing the man to traverse the stairs in his own time, the limp impeding his speed of advancement somewhat.
"Unseemly." He repeated, his eyes connecting with her's for a beat. "A quaint word, Cordelia." He smiled slightly, continuing on his way. "I rather like it."