Chapter Ten (Blue Light Specials..)
Harold Finch glanced over to his passenger..yet again. He sighed mentally. "..You know, it's perfectly alright to cry, Ms. Fellows."
The girl turned her averted profile. He was surprised to see her clear-eyed and..volatile. "I don't want to 'cry'.." she informed him in no uncertain terms. "I want to punch you right in the face!"
Finch returned to his driving, feeling better. "Fisticuffs are the last resort of an uninspired mind."
"I'm ok with that." She snapped peevishly, returning to brooding and the passing scenery.
Finch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. "You are better than that, Cordelia." He reminded almost paternally.
"No.." she disagreed sullenly. "I am not."
"Yes!" he stressed insistently, sparing her a glance. "You ARE!" he fell silent for a long beat and the girl did not seem obliged to speak either. Harold tried again. "..We are quarreling over nothing. Those women, in the larger scheme of things, mean nothing." He paused for emphasis. " At least, not to me." He checked on her reaction..which was nil. "..I might have reacted badly back there."
Harold stopped short of apologizing because it was simply something he did not do. "As did you. You must simply move past this unreasonable block you have concerning..money. Such beliefs are beneath you."
"And YOU.." she countered heatedly. "Must simply move past your penchant for being a pompous self-righteous know-it-all."
His face softened just a tad and he permitted a minute smile. "..Perhaps I must."
Cordelia jerked her head about, the long fluff of her hair swirling delicately about her face, the emerald eyes wide with shock. "…You…you…" had she heard correctly? "M-Must?"
"Ummm hum." He nodded absently, steering the sleek automobile into the crowded parking lot of the local..K Mart shopping center.
Cordelia gasped happily, seeing their location, her hands clasping together in open ecstasy. "Ohhhh, Mr. Finch!" her eyes shined over at him, a huge smile on the once dour little features. She impulsively leaned across the console, hugging him dearly, holding tightly for a long beat.
Finch at first, stiffened, unaccustomed to being ..touched, by anyone, actually but he chastised the reaction, forcing his body to relax. His hand came tentatively to rest lightly along Cordelia's right shoulder, at length, patting the fabric of her coat awkwardly. The moment lengthened, and to Finch's great surprise, the awkwardness began to..fade.
Cordelia knew she was pushing the boundaries of proper proprieties but the man's cologne filled her head with the virile essence of him and she simply refused to halt the feeling so very abruptly. She closed her eyes, holding tightly to the expensive fabric of his overcoat, her fingers clenched into the slightly damp wool. Her pulse was reacting very oddly to his nearness, her stomach tightening with something she had never experienced before but had only written about.
She could not resist turning her face into the warmth of his neck, taking in the wondrous scent that constituted Harold Finch. She could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of muscles and surprisingly fit form beneath her finger tips.
For Harold's part, he enjoyed, for one brief second, the exquisite warmth of her breath on his flesh, a totally alien thing that quickly reminded him of..other times. As did the poignant fragrance of a light, evasive scent that made his nostrils tingle with something akin to sheer delight. He had experienced such things before..but that was a raw subject, Harold needed to put from his conscious mind.
The man ended the embrace, pulling back slowly but surely, offering a brief smile of polite indifference that, in truth, was a lie of sorts, for he was feeling emotions. Ones he did not wish to either analyze or even consider. "It doesn't take much to make you happy, Ms. Fellows, I must say." He made light of the situation and his own inadequacies. "Shall we?"
"Well.." she too, could compromise. "I have lots of things I need in there." She beamed him a sincere smile. "Lots!" she lowered her eyes, hoping for some sort of approval from the man but not knowing why it was so important to her.
"Good girl." Harold appreciated the effort displayed. He motioned that they should proceed with their new adventure, if she was of a mind. She flushed with pleasure, turning toward her car door.
He exited the vehicle coming around the front. Cordelia was already out of the car, her eyes scoping out the other shoppers herding toward the huge 'entrance' doors at the West end of the gigantic structure.
"Mr. Finch." She tugged on his coat sleeve, leaning very close, as they joined the gathering throngs. Cordelia was suddenly very aware of the males in the vicinity. She lowered her voice, whispering for his ears alone. "Can you tell..I only have the coat on?" her eyes darted to one young man hurrying past, moving closer to the man. She turned a worried gaze.
Harold's eyes fell to the 'V' of her coat, his mind flitting back to when she had entered the car..before..at the other shop. He shook that image hastily. "..You look very..professional."
"OHH!" Cordelia took that the wrong way, her head swishing about anxiously, her eye large and fretful, as she noted all the men in the parking lot.
"Oh.." Harold sensed the problem. "No..not..that! As in..you look very much the young executive. Adorned in proper business attire."
"…Oh." She relaxed mentally and physically, breathing a sigh of relief. "don't do that." She scolded, then resumed their trek slowly. Harold examined his surroundings critically allowing the woman to set the pace and direction.
The store entrance housed a few people gathered around a machine that evidently dispensed videos of of some sort. "..How does that work?" he motioned as they passed.
"You can rent a movie and return it at the box. You use your credit card." She explained, selecting a cart from the long rows available. "Mr. Finch." She questioned him with an annoyed look. "Are you giving me the business?"
Harold didn't think he was but one never knew. He glanced down, examining the rickety wheel on the back of the cart she pushed. But there were too many other things to hold his interest as they moved into the store.
"There are sanitary wipes." She mentioned, thinking this man in particular, would appreciate such a convenience.
"Dear God…why?" he asked, shuddering slightly, noting a few of the more..colorful people in their immediate area. One young man had orange hair that was spiked into high peaks on top of his head. A woman was dressed in a totally inappropriate top which showed far too much cleavage not to mention, the band of her jeans was so low it showed..things he thought best not to show. He stared at the rose tattoo on the woman's posterior and the piercings that were prominent most places on her body.
Cordelia seemed oblivious to her surroundings, however, moving the cart into another aisle.
"This place is enormous!" he suddenly realized. She allowed him time to stand and see. Harold noted the huge signs hanging every where, over head. "Automotives.." he read aloud, turning this way and that, craning his neck. "Beauty Supplies, Pharmacy..Electronics.." his interest piqued. "Electronics?"
He checked with her. "I told you." She reminded, heading the cart over to the section he seemed most intent on visiting.
Harold preceded her now, perusing the merchandise with avid curiosity. He started loading items into the cart and soon Cordelia thought perhaps, they might need another if he didn't stop soon.
The wheel rattling began to wear on the man's nerves. "We should stop by 'automotives'.." he quipped, suddenly in a better mood. "Perhaps they can fix that."
Cordelia chuckled. "I think you really mean that." She looked over the items on the shelves. "Too bad there is no television out at your place." She put 'Pride and Prejudice' back into the video section. "We could play cards, I guess..to pass the time? Chess?" she altered, seeing his blank stare.
Another thought occurred to her however. "You are probably very good at chess though." She was at a loss as to how one might entertain such a man. "And I don't like to lose." She reminded herself more than Harold, he thought.
"The sign of a small mind." He muttered, reading the back of a Norton Security package.
"..Are you being mean to me again?" her good mood was rapidly fading away.
Harold considered the question. "No. That was uncalled for. Your mind is..unique." he could live with that word. "I appreciate how it functions."
"That still sounds mean." She pointed out.
"Not at all." He denied. "Here..I shall purchase you a lap top."
"So I can visit the 'Disney' site?" she suspected.
Harold looked at the box in his hands. He replaced it reluctantly. "It always makes ME feel..better." he shrugged aimlessly. "Then..what DO you want?" he indicated the entire store.
She settled, seeing his sincerity. "It's getting late. Maybe we should go get the food?"
He was agreeable, having all he needed from this section of the store. He followed behind, checking out each and every aspect of this wonderful place. "Ohh, look…blue lace." He pointed as they passed.
Cordelia gave him an old-fashioned look and..kept on pushing the cart.
Lionel Fusco had the oddest look on his face but John Reese wasn't going to address the issue at hand. "She sure takes a lot of baths." Fusco had made note, as he looked absently to the securely closed bathroom door from which the dulcet tones of an old sixties song by a wonderful torch singer filtered out. Lionel had the entire album at home.
"It's a woman's 'me' time." Reese had long ago concluded, looking at the closed door as well. "They all like a good soak."
"I'm a shower kind of guy." Fusco didn't see the attraction, "Get in, get it done, get out, it's not brain surgery."
From the bath, came the haunting lyrics of a beautiful melody…
'I found a dream that I can speak to..
'I dream that I..could call my own
'I found a thrill to press my cheek to,
'A thrill that I …have never known..
Fusco shifted questioning eyes. But Reese chose to ignore the obvious question with in the hazel eyes of the little man., busying himself with assembling his weapon, having cleaned and inspected it thoroughly.
'You smiled and then the spell..was cast
'and here we are…in heaven.
'and you are mine..
'AT LAST.
Taylor Davidivitch finished her song, smiling secretively, wondering if her 'at last' guy had heard her serenade but more importantly..if he had appreciated the irony of her choice.
Reese's hands stopped fiddling with the weapon, his face registering amusement.
Fusco let it go. "She sings ok." He gave Davidivitch her due. "Etta James. One of my favorite." He remarked.
"I thought it was Billy Holiday." John turned, frowning over to the man.
"You thought wrong." Fusco knew his blues singers. "Etta James. One hell of a woman."
Reese gave him that much. He was packing up his gear. "I won't be long." He gathered his coat, the leather one for added warmth against the chill of a mid-autumn night. "What I have to do shouldn't take long and then I'll be back to relieve you."
"Yeah, well..don't get shot." Fusco went to the window yet again, as he had done several times since his arrival half-hour ago. "There's a Ranger's game on tonight. This flea trap doesn't even have cable. I like the little geek guy's safe house's better."
"I'll pass on your compliments." Reese opened the door, careful to check for any would be lurkers. He met Fusco's stare. "Keep her safe, Detective."
"If the roaches don't get her, we'll be ok." Fusco shrugged off the concern, knowing his own abilities. "Go do your thing. Knee cap someone for me, will ya? It gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling."
Reese sighed mentally, taking the barb in stride. He left the dingy apartment behind with but one last glance to the closed bathroom door.
He was headed..uptown.
Cordelia approached the small cluster of trees, her brow furrowed slightly. "What are you doing?" she was curious.
"Setting up a parameter." Finch had purchased the items needed for just such a concern. "I've modified the apps I've downloaded to fit the new system I've installed." He arose slowly, having a little difficulty in doing so, his leg giving him hell the past hour. He checked over his handiwork with a critical eye. "Primitive but functional, I dare say. This will alert us to anyone approaching within 400 meters. Not much time granted but the effective range of transmission is very limited. I am basically working with the equivalent of prehistoric stone knives and bear skins."
"Mr. Finch..are you quoting Mr. Spock?"
"I beg your pardon?" he dared her to continue with such a line of thought even though he well knew the episode to which she referred.
Cordelia's full lips compressed tightly for a beat and she tactfully changed the subject. "Can I help?"
Finch had gathered up his tech tools. "All done, besides.." he checked on the sky. "The sun is setting. The temperature drops quickly up here. It's best to be indoors."
She nodded, preceding him back to the house. There was evidence of a recent snow fall, clumps of hardened ice dotted the landscape, still unmelted from the sun's sparse rays.
Cordelia made her way about the slipping sections, her new boots very much warmer than her previous choice of footwear. She had chosen a soft fleece top of azure blue, cream thermal, long-sleeved undershirt and darker jeans. Warm argyle soxes kept her toes toasty. She had forgotten gloves and head gear but this ensemble was very much better than just the long black coat she had sported about all day.
She had thrown the latter over her shoulders however, a bit chilled, as the fire in the hearth was only just beginning to take the draftiness from the cabin.
She and Finch had stocked the wood bin well for the upcoming night. The man had said they would kick the electric heaters on later tonight. He was wisely conserving the generator's power as he had no idea just how long they would require the cabin.
He promised, if it was more than this one night, he would contact the Power Companies to re-open the house. Rarely used, the cabin's main power sources were disconnected which discouraged unwarranted 'squatters' in this exclusive vacation spot, but also conserved energy. Harold believed in being 'Green' whenever possible.
Walter Payne, the old reliable caretaker had stopped by with extra cans of gas for the huge generator, leaving a note of 'welcome back' as Finch had finally contacted his friend while in town.
Walter's farm was equipped with it's own gas tanks which Finch kept well-supplied even when not making use of the cabin.
In reality, the man had not visited the place in almost four years but he was happy to see Walter had kept the place mowed, all repairs updated, all appliances functioning perfectly. Even out-dated bulbs had been replaced.
Finch highly suspected Ruth Payne, Walter's better half, as the old-timer often referred to his wife, had come around to 'dust and fluff' as she put it.
Harold had made the acquaintance of the older couple at the diner in town..the only one with food fit for consumption.
Friendly and out-going and terribly curious about the new neighbor on the parcel of land adjoining their 40 acre farm.
They had settled the area in the late 40's, Walter fresh out of the army and WWII. Their sons ran the farm these days but Walter was still a vital, vibrant man of 84 years young. Farm living had agreed with the man. His wife, Ruthie, had been a child bride, when they settled down to start their large family.
Still a lovely woman, frail looking but tough as nails beneath that no-nonsense exterior.
Walter had offered to look after the cabin, as those damned hippie kids oft-times, according to him, came up in the summer months just looking for abandoned homes to crash and have their loud, 'reefer' parties..damned useless lay-a-bouts!
Finch offered to pay, of course but Walter would hear none of that, so Harold found other ways to compensate the generosity offered.
He had stopped by last time, having recouped somewhat from the accident, to inform the couple of his imminent departure and to say his farewells only to find Walter knee-deep in grease and tractor parts, swearing up a blue streak because 'old Herbie' had finally gone 'belly-up' and died on him.
Neither of them, Walter or Ruthie, had asked about his new 'limp'..or inquired of the 'why' of it all. For which Finch had been grateful. He had been very self-conscious of his new disability, certainly not wishing to share the details of how he had come by it.
Finch returned to New York and his new way of life, and the next day, Walter found a newly delivered John Deere tractor awaiting his personal use.
The following week, the new gas tanks were installed in the field behind the barn. What good was a tractor if it didn't have fuel, after all.
"Mr. Finch, I made soup and sandwiches." Cordelia brought his reverie to an abrupt halt, guiding him to the dining table complete with place-settings, mats and utensils, all set and ready to enjoy. "Not gourmet but filling, hopefully..."
Finch surveyed the cheerful atmosphere. He removed his coat, hanging it on the peg next to Cordelia's. "It smells wonderful." The girl served up the simple fare while Finch washed up.
Black wooden bowls full of some noodle concoction that actually tasted quite passable, once tried, was served with artisan bread, a glass of red wine and diagonally cut ham and turkey sandwiches. A relish tray with neatly sliced tomatoes, large leaf lettuce and green olives set to the side, if needed.
"I hope you have an appetite." Cordelia situated her napkin on her lap, sipping from a glass of tap water.
"Decidedly." Finch brought the sandwich closer, picking up the carefully toasted bread and filling. "This is..unexpected but very well received, Cordelia." He made mention, saluting her slightly with the object he now held in his hand. "thank you for being so thoughtful."
She moved the wicker stool a bit closer to the table, the cast iron legs getting in her way.
"You've been working so diligently.." she said. "I felt rather useless. It was the least I could do."
Reese waited, his body relaxed yet alert, his senses having long since adjusted to the darkened area in which he now stood.
Ten minutes had passed according to his watch. It was the one piece of equipment John invested heavily in for it was important to his chosen vocation.
Punctuality was often a plus, especially when working for a man like Harold Finch.
The driveway to the elegant mansion was well-lit, but the security layout was definitely lacking. It had taken him less than three minutes to disarm the fence parameter settings and less still to traverse the shadowy depths of the gigantic lawn which graced the front of Amelia Harper's Grecian style home.
Mammoth trees lined the long paved road leading to the oval shaped driveway. Only one luxury auto was parked within the raised circle of creatively arranged bricks.
The red BMW awaited it's mistress, quietly, silently witnessing the arrival of the new visitor who now lurked in the shadows of the overhang of a completely unnecessary carport attached to the East end of the mansion which ran the entire length of the house.
Reese glanced along the rose covered archway. A person could fit six cars under this thing, he imagined. The rose bushes lining the house were still a healthy, dark green, the foliage fed by a good fall blend of fertilizer and expert gardening skills, John assumed.
Reese had a plant in his apartment which he nurtured religiously but still, the leaves were dotted with brown spots, the soil felt dry constantly even though he watered it to extremes and the damned thing seemed determined to bite the dust no matter what administrations he tried. He had even checked on line but nothing had worked to date.
John was no quitter, however, so the battle still waged in his mind.
He was determined to save that darned plant. It had become some sort of symbol to the man. Of what, he had no clue.
He wondered how Finch was faring with Cordelia Fellows. Reese had checked in about thirty minutes ago and the two had just finished dinner.
Finch was updating his new computer system and the lady had retired early. He imagined it had been a trying day for Ms. Fellows. Finch had a personality that took getting used to.
Finch seemed in high spirits however, clearly excited about the fascinating new place he had discovered.
K-Mart stock was just about to rise, Reese surmised, with a small smirk.
Finch had been concerned they had been followed from town, he had relayed, but it had only been a family of four who had continued on to their house after Finch had hurriedly pulled off the road, concealing the Escalade in a grouping of trees until the suspected 'tail' had passed.
'Better safe than sorry.' Reese had commended the other man's actions, proud that Finch was being cautious.
'What would you have done had it been an actual bad guy, Harold?' Reese had been curious.
'Called you and asked for instructions, of course.' Had come the brisk reply.
'I'll call in after I check with the parties of the first part, Mr. Finch.'
'Be careful, John.'
Reese thought back over the conversation but quickly dismissed all else, a sound alerting him to..the presence of another.