Disclaimer: Credit to Jonathan Nolan, Greg Plageman, and the POI writing team for these lovely characters (though Elena is mine). Any bolded sections come straight from the episodes.
THE DETECTIVE AND MRS. RILEY
To See and Be Seen
A/N: So sorry for the monthlong hiatus! Here's a chapter that's been living in my head for quite some time.
Timeline
• Brief Encounters (ch 30-36)
• Queensbridge Park
• The Night Watch (ch 29)
• Elena Cassidy's Home for Retired Assassins (ch 3)
• Fusco Meets the Rileys (ch 4)
• Little Mistress Normal (ch 5)
• Drinks (ch 10)
• Detective Darkness and Little Miss Sunshine (ch 12)
• Bear's Collection (ch 2)
• Home Safe Home (ch 9)
• Hell in the Hamptons (ch 13-16)
• Risque Business (ch 20)
• Detective Cassidy (ch 21)
• Bets on Broadway (ch 11)
• Toast (ch 19)
• Friendsgiving (ch 24)
• Shootin' Around the Christmas Tree (ch 25)
• Nicknames (ch 22)
• Man in the Suit and Wife (ch 26)
• We Wish You a Merry Reesemas (ch 28)
• To Each His Own (ch 27)
• TO SEE AND BE SEEN
• Little Mrs. Not-So-Normal (ch 37)
• Kneecappily Ever After (ch 38)
• Swingers Cruise (ch 6)
• Knockout (ch 8)
• Ellie with the Pink Hair (ch 18)
• Queen E (ch 1)
• Toxic (ch 17)
• Get to the Chopper! (ch 7)
• Meat Me in St. Louis (ch 23)
• Queensbridge Park epilogue
Episode inspo:
FINCH: I didn't teach you how to love.
THE MACHINE: Of course you did. You taught me to see everything, see everyone, and I do. But I see thousands of versions of them: what they were, what they are, what they could be. And what is love if not being seen?
—Synecdoche (s5e11)
John's already home. Damn.
Elena takes a deep breath and hitches a smile on her face before letting herself in. The latest placement the Machine had given her is lasting longer than the others. Which means she's had to deal longer with an asshole boss and asshole co-workers. And she hadn't even had the chance to tase any of them yet.
The kitchen is bright and warm, and stepping into it is almost like stepping into the bath she's been thinking of sinking into all day long.
She sees John standing at the stove, making dinner in his shirtsleeves and an apron, and she finds she's scarily close to crying.
"Hi, honey," he greets with an easy smile. "You're home late."
"You keeping tabs on me?" she teases, as usual.
"Always," he answers, as he always does. And it brings her one step closer to those tears.
"I had to wait until the boss left to access some files on his desktop," she says, turning around to hang her coat and set aside her other things in the entryway while she regains her composure. "For some reason he actually was in the office till the closing bell."
"She's keeping you there a while."
"It's a bigger mess than what we expected, and he's smarter than we expected. Casey's still building an airtight case."
"Tell him to hurry up."
"You know I'm not really the boss."
"Hmm." He makes a displeased sound, but doesn't press it any further, much to her relief.
"I'm making cacio e pepe," he says, rather unnecessarily. She could smell it just coming up the driveway. "I can't promise it's as good as Maria's, but I think you'll like it."
She remembers how he'd navigated her over the phone to a hidden-away gem of a restaurant in Rome when she was still trying to get her bearings in the city, and how he'd led her to Maria, the owner, who had kept an eye on her and kept her well-fed during the entire time she was abroad.
And really, that's the last straw.
She crosses the kitchen in a few quick strides and wraps her arms around his waist from behind. Her head barely reaches his shoulderblades, so all she can see is the fabric of his shirt. The gun tucked into the waistband of his pants digs into her stomach, but she doesn't care. She holds him as tightly as she can, pressing herself as close to him as physically possible.
"El?" She can feel the vibration as he speaks. One of his hands rests on top of both of hers. "Are you all right?"
She nods against his back. She's a terrible liar, even when she doesn't say anything.
To his credit, Reese remains standing at the stove, keeping an eye on the pasta to make sure it doesn't burn but all other senses focused on Elena.
"Hard day at work?"
Another nod.
"Are you okay?" he asks again, in a more urgent tone.
Another nod.
"El, you better say something before I shoot something."
It's so quintessentially John. She knows he would shoot anything and everything that causes her grief, and oh my God, she loves him so much.
The sob that escapes her is the last straw for him. The pasta can burn for all he cares. He turns, somehow doing it without having to detach her from him. He gives her a swift, searching look.
"Did someone do something?" he asks. His voice is restrained, but she can feel him raring to avenge her.
She shakes her head again, trying to get the words out, though ugly sobs are winning the battle now. Controlling the urge to go make someone pay for making Elena cry, Reese wraps his arms around her instead and holds her as tightly as she's holding him.
The door opens and Shaw enters. She opens her mouth to say something snarky about canoodling in the kitchen, so he throws a wooden spoon at her, which she catches and is about to hurl back at him before she spots Cassidy crying. She reaches over to turn off the stove because she cares if the pasta burns, and then beats a hasty retreat.
"What is it, El?" he asks quietly, a few minutes later, during a lull.
She can barely explain it herself. "It's just ... you're perfect," she sobs.
He huffs embarrassedly. "I'm not."
"You're absolutely, completely, too-good-to-be-true perfect," she bawls.
"Okay," he says, though she knows he's just placating her, not agreeing with her statement. "And realizing this made you cry?"
"People suck. Everyone is horrible. And you're perfect."
"So I'm just perfect because everyone else is awful."
She lets out a soft laugh combined with another sob — because along with being perfect, he's funny too. He eases back so he can see her. John Reese can withstand many things. A crying Elena Cassidy is not one of them.
"Please tell me what's wrong, El."
And Elena Cassidy could never refuse John Reese when he says 'please'.
"My boss and his co-workers —"
He stiffens. She squeezes him reassuringly.
"They haven't done anything. They don't even see me. They make the most terrible, sexist jokes as if I wasn't right in the room with them serving coffee or taking notes."
She looks up at him. "John, you see me. You've always seen me, ever since the day we met."
He gives her a slightly bemused look. "Of course I —"
"No, you don't understand. You see me," she stresses, frustrated she isn't explaining it well enough. "Ken didn't, not really. Everyone else saw me as just his girlfriend, including him. Lionel still sees me as little Ellie, everyone on this street still sees me as Tommy Cassidy's little girl. I'm just the dumb secretary at work. My entire life, no one's ever really seen me for who I truly am, and I didn't even know it until you came along. You know me."
"Of course I do," he reassures her. "You're Elena Cassidy Riley. You love walks in the park with Bear, coffee with too much sugar and cream, and romance novels. You're awful at cooking, but you're a great shot and have a killer typing speed. You're too selfless and kind and can get along with almost anyone, even Shaw. You're the best thing that's happened to me, and I love you."
He says it so easily, so simply, so truthfully. Against expectations, she's the one who has more trouble saying it. "I love you, John. You know that, right?" she asks with a kind of desperate intensity that takes him aback. "I know I don't say it enough. I hardly say it at all. But I love you so much." Oh God, she's sobbing again, but he has to know. "You're wonderful and perfect and deserve to be told it every day and —"
He cups her cheeks, wiping away the tears there. "I know, El. I know," he assures her quietly. "Don't ever worry about that. You do tell me every day. Every day I wake up and you're still here. Every cup of coffee, every kiss, every inappropriate comment you throw my way."
She laughs again even though she's still crying, because every passing second and every word he says just confirms that he is perfect. And she knows that she'll probably get mad or frustrated or exasperated or annoyed at him tomorrow or later tonight, or he'll get mad or frustrated or exasperated or annoyed at her, but that's still perfect because she'd rather be with someone occasionally infuriating and perfect than boring and perfect.
"How's Pixie?" Shaw asks as she finishes the last of the cacio e pepe. A little overrcooked, but she's had worse (like when Cassidy had to cook dinner once).
"Calmer," Reese says. "I think she cried herself out. Some gin helped too."
"I didn't know she could cry like that."
"I don't think she knew either."
"So." Shaw tosses a scrap to Bear. "Who are we going to kill?"
Reese sighs. "No one."
Shaw stares. "Who are you, and what have you done with John Reese? Cassidy comes home in hysterics, and we're not going to do anything about it?"
"We can't, Shaw," Reese says, though he can't believe he's saying it. "This is her job, her mission. We shouldn't interfere."
"We shouldn't do a lot of the things, Reese. Hasn't stopped us yet."
"I think Elena needs to deal with this herself. She can handle it." He gives her a stern look. "We won't get involved unless she asks us to or ..."
"Or?"
There's a flinty glint in his eye. "Or their Number comes up."
Elena continues to trudge to work, reminding herself that there are millions of other women out there who have to deal with this every day with no end in sight.
On the day she gets the go-ahead from Casey, Elena nearly skips to work. She even gets there early. Her taser is fully charged, and she's already imagining where exactly she's going to stick it.
Only to find out her boss had been in an awful accident the previous night.
"He was drinking. He fell off his balcony," one of her co-workers says as they gather around the water cooler.
"Too bad he only lived on the fifth floor," mutters another.
Elena thinks she should feel bad. Actually, she does feel bad. Bad that she didn't get to tase him.
She sighs as she boards the train to go back home. John and Sameen are rubbing off on her.
Reese looks up when the kitchen door swings open.
"You're back early," he says.
"You're here late," she observes.
He smiles. "Late start this morning. How about you? The Machine finally let you quit?"
"No," she says glumly. "My boss fell off his balcony and is in a coma at Manhattan General."
Reese frowns at her reaction. "Don't tell me you feel bad for the guy. He's been making you miserable."
Her gloom deepens. "I feel bad I didn't get to tase him," she confesses. "I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"
"No way, El," he assures her, putting his arm around her. "But it's good to know you're human. Coma, huh? Too bad he didn't live on a higher floor."
Elena freezes. "Hang on, how do you know what floor —?"
"Gotta get to work," Reese says, quickly gulping down the rest of his coffee.
"John —"
"Can't be late. Captain's been on my ass lately —"
"The captain's always on your ass, John. What did you do?"
He grins. "My job. Happy Valentine's Day. Love you, El."
By the time she gets to the door, he's already halfway across the lawn thanks to those damn long legs of his.
She catches the screen door as it swings shut. "Yeah, love you too, you interfering dickwad!" she yells after him.
He gives her a last grin as he ducks into his car.
"Oh. Good morning, Mrs. Kelly," she greets, catching their neighbor watching their exchange with apparent disapproval. "Sorry." She quickly ducks back inside.
"You say the sweetest things," [1] Shaw drawls from the breakfast nook, sitting as if she'd been there the whole time.
Elena spins on her heel. "How did my boss end up in a coma?"
Shaw shrugs. "Beats me. Though I seem to recall Reese doing a lot of the beating," she adds thoughtfully.
"Sameen! I thought you both said you weren't going to interfere in my work!"
"That's the thing, Pix, me and Reese, we don't really wait on the sidelines. Sooner you get that through your pretty little head, the better."
"The Machine —"
"— sent us his Number yesterday," Shaw says. "Turns out his pervy little hands were about to turn bloody, so we took him out."
"Oh. Well. That's different. Thank you." Elena raises an eyebrow. "Did you get some beating in, too?"
Shaw scoffs. "Of course. Can't let the boy have all the fun."
"Agreed. So when are you going to bring me along to help with one of your Numbers?"
Shaw rolls her eyes. "You know Reese doesn't want you in the field with us. I'm all for Girl Power, but —"
"It's two against one, he's ... outnumbered."
"No," Shaw shakes her head.
"No, what?" Elena pouts.
"No, we're not going to start doing Machine puns." She whistles, and Bear hurries over. "Come on, buddy," she instructs, holding the door open for him, and he dutifully trots toward the car. After a moment, she adds, "You too, Pixie."
Elena's eyes light up with excitement as she follows Bear, her ponytail swinging in time to the wag of Bear's tail.
Shaw smirks to herself. Reese is going to kill her for bringing Cassidy along. Well, he can try. Which would be a lot of fun.
[1] The sweetest things
SHAW: [Puts Root into CIA holding cell.] Hope the voice in your head knows what it's doing. [Takes earpiece.] That's gotta go.
ROOT: Sundown, Ottawa, left, right, left, right, one, two, three.
SHAW: [Rolls eyes.] You say the sweetest things.