Chapter Fourteen (It All Comes Together…)
John Reese liked his new 2012 Suzuki Hayabusa. He liked the power the machine delivered between his legs..what man wouldn't, according to Taylor Davidivitch.
The thought made him smile. A full smile. For there were no people around and he felt comfortable in letting his guard down, just a tad.
He liked the quick responsive thrust of the gears through his hand shifter on the accelerator. Another smile. Maybe Davidivitch had been right..maybe a motor cycle actually was a sexual surrogate for a man.
John liked his 'ride' but he never imagined it replacing the real thing.
He also appreciated the fact, it was far easier to lose a tail on a machine that could go almost anywhere a car could not.
John rode around aimlessly for a while, zigzagging city blocks and alley ways at a dangerously high rate of speed, testing his bike, and his mettle. When he knew beyond doubt that he was not being followed, he gunned the massive 82 Cubic Inch, 4-stroke, inline-Four, liquid cooled, 16 valve engine.
Even saying it in his head made his blood race.
The first day he had bought it, straight off the show room floor, and taken it out I-95, opened it up? It had been love at first gear change.
Finch had given him so much more than he ever could have hoped in his other life..beyond the will to live and function as a useful member of society again. To be able to walk in that fancy 5th Ave show room and slap down that platinum credit card..walk out with anything in that place he could ever want?
There was no feeling like that in the entire world.
John pulled up to the safe house, pulling his bike deep into the shadows of the side of the building. He put his lock on the front end, inserting his key, he heard the safety rod slide into place, his thoughts still with the day he purchased his new 'baby'.
It went beyond a power trip. It just made a guy feel like a billion dollars! It changed one's perspective in life. Reese couldn't put words to it, he only knew, it had made him feel so very good.
He would never get tired of that feeling, he didn't think. Or used to it, probably. He wasn't Harold Finch. Money had never been a priority with him but it sure as hell had it's uses, he was rapidly finding out.
Lionel Fusco fiddled with the radio knobs, bringing station after station up on the small appliance sitting on the kitchen counter, over by the toaster.
Davidivitch had bored with watching the boob tube and now sat, in the lumpy cushions of a seventies style wing-back chair that had seen better days. She was thumbing through a current copy of 'Life' magazine.
The mellow sounds of the Benny Goodman orchestra bled out of the small, crackling speakers as Fusco zeroed in on the 'Big Band Sound' station.
Davidivitch looked up from the pages of the magazine, noting his choice of a channel.
"You like this stuff?" he asked, more to have something to do than any real interest in an answer.
"Actually.." she had returned to her perusal but now, lifted a surprised brow at the man. "I do."
"Good speakers for such a crummy radio." Fusco hooked his thumb over to the kitchen counter, where the radio poured out the soulful sounds of 'Stardust' .
Davidivitch doubted the man's statement, was her dubious look anything by which to judge. She let it go though. "My mom loved this music. She played it all the time when I was growing up."
"Yeah, well..your mama raised you right." Was Fusco's opinion.
The announcer came on, but neither really listened to the dour tones of the words he spoke.
"I remember the neighbors not complaining about the music. She was hard of hearing and played it rather loudly." Davidivitch smiled softly. "I ..miss her."
Fusco was at a loss as to what to say at such times. He was glad when the brass section of Glenn Miller's band struck up a chord. He knew the song by heart, but..who didn't. 'In The Mood…'
Taylor seemed kinda down so..he 'improvised'..
On impulse, he stepped, crossing the small space separating them. He stopped just short of where she sat, holding out his hand.
Davidivitch looked at it as if it were something alien. "…You're kidding."
"You got something better to do?" he halfway taunted.
She chuckled, placing her hand in his, allowing him to assist her up. "Well..let's see what you're made of..Detective." She moved rhythmically, to the swing beat, provocatively sidling up to the man, who grinned over, taking her into his arms, swinging her out and back, then..
They got down to serious business.
Fusco stepped gingerly, his arm going about her waist, his hand holding her's confidently as he moved to the addictive steps of the lively 40's big band arrangement.
Davidivitch laughed her delight, for the man was really quite good, floating effortlessly across the linoleum floor, guiding her through the moves of a pretty good imitation of a swing dance.
Fusco knew, for a big man, he was light on his feet. He was part Irish and loved to dance, even as a skinny kid growing up on the wrong side of the tracks, in the South Bronx.
His sense of humor and smart ass attitude landed him a few dates with even the pretty girls in school. He was no wall flower, not afraid to be shot down because he always had an inner confidence, a cockiness some were attracted to. So if a dame didn't approve of him, what the hell did he care. He knew his own worth.
He met his Ex at a dance..well, more like the corner booth down at O'Hara's Bar and Grill but, there was a dance floor of sorts and that's where he wooed her over to his way of thinking.
It had taken a while to get her to put out but at that time, Lionel had thought it worth the effort.
He didn't know if he truly loved the woman, but the first year or so of the marriage had been ok. And out of that time came the only good thing in his life..his son.
And..the Glenn Miller Band played on….
John Reese heard the music as he approached the securely locked door of the safe house.
A dark scowl laced his handsome face. Lionel Fusco would not be so stupid as to let his guard down to such an extent. The hairs on the back of Reese's neck raised as alarms sounded in his brain.
He pulled his weapon, his mind sorting rapidly through several different scenarios. If there was someone waiting for him inside..what the fuck had happened to..
Fusco opened the door, his manner rather insolent, his eyes flicking the weapon in something akin to disdain. He offered a sardonic shake of his head but disappeared back inside the flat without a single world of acknowledgement.
Reese slipped his Glock back into his shoulder harness, chancing a glimpse around the wood facing of the door.
Fusco swung Davidivitch out into a graceful twirl, making the woman laugh her delight, then expertly caught her waist on the back beat, returning to the regular footwork of the dance.
Reese was impressed, shutting the door behind him, flicking the lock automatically but his real interest had been with..the couple on the floor.
He folded his arms, leaning back on the kitchen counter, keeping out of the way as Glenn Miller finished up his biggest hit ever, and Lionel Fusco finished up the song with a flourish..dipping Davidivitch's lithe body, the woman's deep, throaty chuckle which followed, causing John's skin to goose flesh with pleasure.
Taylor Davidivitch had a way of making every man in the room feel like he was something special and that sexy laugh only added to the mystique. Even though she and Harold Finch had gotten off on the wrong foot, Reese was pretty sure, given enough incentive, the woman could warm even Harold's cold, unfeeling heart if she really put her mind to it.
"I thought you two hated each other's company." Reese teased in his own way to the newly formed 'couple'.
"She grows on a guy." Fusco released his partner, his eyes having a twinkle to them. "like fungus."
"Beneath that 'off –the-rack- suit, " Davidivitch countered, tongue-in-cheek, "is a man of hidden depths. A gal just has to dig deep enough." She held up a well- manicured hand, examining it critically. "I think I broke a nail."
The radio offered up yet another melody, making Fusco grin. "Double play." He knew the station well, smiling his amusement. He gestured, stepping aside, taking Davidivitch's hand, offering it over gallantly.
The haunting brass section's rendition of 'Moonlight Serenade' filled the air between a breathless Taylor Davidivitch, for Reese's gaze made something inside her 'click' just right, and the exact moment of connection established..was felt by both individuals.
Reese glanced at the woman's hand, his perennially sad eyes sparking with an odd inner light as they stared back at the arresting loveliness of the woman's inquisitive ones.
"Wanna dance, Sailor?" Lionel had gotten her into a playful mood.
John wanted a lot of things at that exact moment but with Fusco in the room, he would have to settle for, the intimacy implied. He slid his palm into the woman's warm hand. The smaller man stepped aside, taking up residence in Reese's old spot by the counter adopting the same stance of folded arms and smirking grin.
Davidivitch's fingers intertwined with John's cooler ones. He had not worn his gloves on the ride over, the night a chilly one but the wind had felt good. He fitted her body to his form, stepping close, his hand flattening on the small of Taylor's back, his thigh between her heated flesh.
The soft fluff of her sweater melded to his abdomen, her scent surrounding him as she lifted her arms along his shoulders and about his neckline.
The song was both romantic and totally nostalgic. A beautiful remembrance of another time..another world.
She felt calloused skin against her soft palm, wondering at the enigma before her. Reese's body was honed to muscular perfection. He didn't seem the type for physical labor but he had the body of a working man.
Like the men she walked by everyday on her way to her lavishly furnished office. The men that made her day by their wolf whistles and suggestive leers and comments.
Of course, she played her part of the snobbish, uppity rich bitch, sending them an occasional dismissive glance of disdain, but secretly she enjoyed their attention much more than the men she had to associate with through her work arena.
There was something honest and appealing about a man who had to fight every day for survival out there in the cold, cruel world. Someone who knew the value of hard work.
Taylor knew all about the cold, cruel world..she knew how difficult it was, especially for a woman alone, so she could respect the effort it took to keep going under such odds.
Those men never approached her. She had molded herself into a 'better-classed broad'..as Fusco would put it. But deep down, she was just like those men. She had to fight her way to the top. Nothing had been given over easily to Taylor Davidivitch.
She wouldn't have had it any other way.
And now, she was held in the strong arms of a man she both admired, respected and found very, very sexually appealing.
She could feel the power of those arms about her body, but the gentle way Reese held her hand, his thumb rubbing the inside of her palm with decidedly sensual strokes from time to time, made her want to plant a passionately seductive kiss on that curved mouth with it's five o'clock shadow just above the full upper lip.
She lay her forehead along the chiseled outline of his strong, masculine jaw receiving a slight prickle of chafe for her efforts. She didn't mind one bit, snuggling into the moment even more so, moving closer still to his tall form.
The warmth of his body seeped into her soul. She closed her eyes, savoring the beautifully ethereal sounds of Glenn Miller's timeless song.
Her head filled with visions of a past time. A time when men were different. A better time, some said. The world was at war back then but out of that conflict came a different breed of men.
Responsible, caring, mature men, not afraid to commit, facing the uncertain future with confidence and an inner strength borne of having faced hardships unimaginable to any who had not been there. Who had not seen the killing fields.
John Reese was like those men, she knew he was.
But, there was another side to that type of man, as well. She felt the evidence forced suddenly upon her consciousness.
Taylor stiffened, jolted from her doldrums. She..moved away from that part of his life. She covered the fact well, smiling up at the intent, puzzled eyes that robbed her mind of any real sane thought. "…We're neglecting the 'Pillsbury Doughboy'."
Her voice was husky with emotion as she pushed fully from John's embrace.
She crossed to Lionel, lifting her arms in open invitation.
"Eat me." The smaller man suggested, but took her in his arms, finishing the song and the dance.
"In your dreams, Cop Guy." she returned half-heartedly.
Reese was left baffled and a little hurt by her sudden withdrawal for he had felt the exact moment when things had changed, also sensing…the reason behind the woman's abrupt change of mood.
He hadn't pretended he did not enjoy holding her, trying to transmit his feelings silently through gentle, unobtrusive gestures..the light brush of his fingertips across her back, the touch of his hand in her's..the subtle leaning into her space, his body used as an instrument of seduction, his arms systematically tightening about her small waist, centering her on his ever growing awareness of her sensuality.
"I love this old stuff." Taylor's tone, while light, hid the pain in her heart.
"That's because you're an 'old' broad..remember?" Lionel needlessly reminded, sensing the woman's real mood. "But, I've seen worse lookers."
"Now, Fusco..you're going to turn my head with such praise." Taylor chided scoldingly. " We're established a perfect working repore, let's not mess with it."
She leaned in, kissing his cheek in open affection. "I have to piss." She made a discrete exit, fleeing to the safety of the bathroom, unable as yet to meet the other man's gaze..one she had felt on her profile now from the moment she had left his sphere of influence.
Knowing Reese, however..there was no need to be concerned. He would file this under 'so what'..those incredibly sexy eyes, the ones that could turn her inside out with one long, smoldering glance..would be clear and unreadable. Any real emotion..if he, indeed, could feel any at all..would be hidden safely away.
Fusco felt no qualms about checking out John Reese's reaction though, having witnessed the imperceptible 'incident' taking place. And man enough to understand the nuances of a male/female interaction of such magnitude. He allowed the silence to build, not sure he should butt in, but Reese seemed so..lost, maybe. 'Something'.. that made Lionel very uneasy, so much so..he had to state his observations.
"You know?" he frowned over to the taller man. "There are times you seem halfway human.. 'normal'..right?" Was that a shitty way to say it? Fusco rethought his approach. "Maybe not..that." he grimaced slightly. "But..the truth is..you're not." He amended yet again, not liking the sound of that statement once made either. "In that..you're not like the everyday 'Joe'..not any more. You can play the part."
Reese stood, grimly listening to the assessment that he could find no fault with so far.
"Like with Davidivitch..just now." Lionel shrugged his stocky shoulders, moving his frame from one foot to the other, his hand gesturing out to his side from time to time as he spoke. "You have 'normal' moments..just like everyone else."
Reese thought about being pissed, but..he wasn't. He knew truth when he heard it these days. "..They mean..everything." he admitted quietly, the husky whisper almost torn from his throat. He lifted an open, searching gaze, uncertain if he should have trusted Fusco to the extent he had.
Lionel nodded slowly. "..You know why she did it." He appreciated the slight bending of Reese's stance..the unspoken rule between them. Because, to Fusco, it was as plain as the classically scultured nose on the other guy's face.
"She felt the gun." Reese's mouth tightened morosely.
"Yeah." Fusco dismissed, annoyed for some obscure reason. "But, moreso..she had to come to grips with what it meant."
"I know that, Lionel!" Reese snapped, moving restlessly away from the conversation and the reality of the situation.
"That there might be some night that you wouldn't come back from that other place..a place in which she can never have a part." Fusco explained his meaning, ignoring the man's mood. "But you know what?" he approached Reese cautiously, his eyes warily watching the unpredictable man. "I think..if you let her in? She just might surprise you."
Reese cut the man a cold stare.
Lionel had said his piece, going to gather his coat from the back of the couch. "Dames..they think too much. Spoils everything."
Reese's hand lashed out, catching the Detective's sleeve as Lionel passed.
Fusco scowled at the contact.
"Lionel?" John wasn't sure what he wanted to say but he knew..he had to respond somehow to the gesture offered.
"What?" the burly guy demanded a reply.
"… … … Thanks." Reese offered quietly.
Lionel shrugged into his coat for Reese had released his arm. "Yeah, well..I got a life. I'm outta here." He exited the apartment without a backward glance.
Reese hesitated, searching out the still closed bathroom door just across the hall way to his left. Had he truly misconstrued Davidivitch's reaction before?
Before he knew it, he was crossing the floor, suddenly finding himself standing on the outside of the closed door. He gathered his courage, tapping lightly, asking the only lame thing to come to mind. "..Hey." he moved closer to the weathered wood. "What are you doing in there?" he rolled his eyes, hearing just how stupid the remark had been, scrambling for something more coherent.
Davidivitch pulled her eyes from the mirror which she had been staring dejectedly into, muttering her depression. "Staring at an idiot." But she raised her tone, forcing a cheerful response. "Hold your horses, Cowboy..let me wash up."
She turned on the faucet, hastily cleansing her hands and drying them on the towel provided by this fine establishment. She squared her shoulders, checked her 'look'..drew in a deep, cleansing breath, then..stepped to the door, opening it with a flourish, her smile fixed and bright.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: MY APOLOGIES TO ALL THE FINCH FANS WANTING A LITTLE INTERACTION WITH CORDELIA. I HAVE WRITTEN THREE DIFFERENT VERSIONS OF AN INTERFACING AND THEY ALL WERE CRAP, AS FUSCO MIGHT SAY. I AM DILIGENTLY DETERMINED TO WIN OUT OVER OUR LITTLE 'MACHINE MAKER'..SO BEAR WITH ME. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS DEFINITELY GOING TO GET FINCH LAID..ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. ANYONE KNOW WHERE I CAN GET THOSE NEEDLES THE GERMAN GUY USED ON REESE? IT LOOKS LIKE THAT WILL BE THE ONLY WAY TO PREVAIL OVER OUR RESIDENT GENIUS...AHEM.