The sweltering heat of New York in August soon gave way to autumn breezes and dreary drizzles of rain. By mid-October it had been two months since the morning The Machine offered up Katherine Corvis' number to Finch. In that time, things had progressed much as they always did. So, when Finch found himself caught in a half-expected grey drizzle, at the end of a payphone receiver, the last thing he expected to hear was a number that tickled his brain with its familiarity.
He wasn't certain who it belonged to at first, or even if it was, in fact, familiar, and not just a trick of his mind, running through too many permutations of the same nine digits. But as he wandered the Library that afternoon, still shaking off the damp chill, he noted that he had pulled these books before, not too long ago. Perhaps even in the same order. Perhaps even with Bear trotting close to his heels then, expectantly panting, too.
He didn't even have to write it down. He already knew who it belonged to, as soon as the books were gripped in a stack in his hands.
"Mr. Reese?" He inquired to the air. As if expected, Reese appeared at the top of the Library staircase, soaked, but somehow as collected and polished as always.
"I didn't know I was that predictable, Finch." Reese pushed a gently steaming cup of tea into Finch's free hand.
"Mr. Reese, we appear to have a duplicate number." Finch dropped the books on his desk, pushing them off to the side.
"Not Leon again." Reese was almost smiling. At the mention of Tao, Bear's ears perked, and his tail began waving expectantly.
"Not exactly, John." Finch replied, gesturing to the books and interrupting his own train of thought with a swig of tea. Reese rounded the table, eyeing the books. He picked them up, studying their call numbers.
"Katherine Corvis." Finch prompted, a strange sense of disappointment, mingled with something else, something he wasn't about to identify at this given moment, catching in his chest. He had very sincerely hoped he would never have to speak her name again.
"Interesting." Reese mused. "I wouldn't have picked her for a repeat."
"Neither would I. I'll see what I can dig up, maybe she's been involved in something else since we last ran into her. Though I daresay she's been through quite enough already."
"I'll get eyes on her. I'm sure she'll be happy to see us again."
"She probably will be. She'll have to learn otherwise eventually, I suppose."
As soon as Reese departed, Finch rolled up to his bank of monitors and began tapping away. He made quick work of her social media profile (still minimal), her work history (exactly the same as before), and her background. He put a call in to (former) Detective Carter to check up on any criminal activity connected to former Chicago gang members. He shooed Bear's smiling dog-face away from his hands, where he was begging for attention.
He pulled out the flash drive that contained all of Katherine's private emails and files, and turned it over in his hands. He hadn't seen the point of invading her privacy once her safety was ensured the first time, but had stored the information away anyway. Now, he would have to dig through all of it, a task he was not keen on doing.
It was a strange feeling, this twinging that kept pulling at his mind and writhing somewhere in the general vicinity behind his tie tack. It was a reluctance he wasn't prepared to name. After a few moments of indecision, he stood and tacked two familiar photographs to the board. He didn't need to look at them. He already knew what he was looking for, and every moment his own personal turmoil trumped her potential for danger could be critical.
He pulled open the flash drive. Her file storage system was unkempt and meandering, photos dating from her days in Chicago still littering the downloads folder. College papers were still hiding, nested five folders deep. All the photos she had ever taken, and seemingly every photo ever taken of her clogged the drive. He was sifting through these, trying to scrutinize the background characters for inconsistencies, when he found he could no longer will his thoughts to ambiguity.
He had found her attractive, in a strange, haphazard way. Standing in his kitchen, not his kitchen, in faded shorts and a hoodie that was worn bare in patches, looking every bit completely inappropriate to the situation, he still found her attractive. This had not bothered him at the time. It hadn't bothered him in the parking garage, with her gripping tightly to his hand and fearing for her own existence. It had not bothered him, watching her pass, defeatedly, through the pool of streetlight at the end of the night, as she returned to an existence that would never feel like her own, but it bothered him now, at the prospect of having to see her, having to protect her, having permission to care about her and her life for the next 48 hours.
This was not the first time Finch had registered or even admitted an attraction to one of the women falling into their care. He did not find it particularly unusual, especially when he considered Reese's complicated history with Zoe Morgan. It had never clouded his vision or gotten in his way. The only woman who had ever done that before was Grace. And he preferred it that way. Not only because he still cared about her, still took it upon himself to look after her, to love, honor, and cherish her, no matter how deep his own personal rift. But sometimes, rarely, he preferred this because it was infinitely finite. He had already inflicted upon her the greatest pain one could ever inflict upon someone else. He had left her for a place he could not return from, for an exile she couldn't be aware of. She was safe.
The thought of someone else intruding on that, of someone else altering the compromises he'd made to permit himself to exist knowing what he had done to Grace… He intended to never allow that to happen.
Not that it would, anyway, he thought, still poring through folders, now wading through endless, dry paragraphs of stream-of-consciousness journaling. Any woman foolish, adventurous, or indiscreet enough to end up requiring the services of Finch and Reese would surely automatically find herself drawn to tall, brooding Mr. Reese. And Finch didn't begrudge him that fact. He was, after all, the one who took care of the actual sweeping in and saving parts of the operation. It certainly seemed Katherine preferred the company of Reese, having flung herself at him at their last meeting. Still, Finch was not looking forward to the impending afternoon.
Somewhere amidst all these thoughts, Finch had shifted from the endless leafing through photos and files, and began leafing through emails. And then he found something. Or, perhaps he found something.
"Mr. Reese." He murmured, waiting for Reese's familiar dry reply.
"What took you so long, Finch?"
"Now is not the time, Mr. Reese. We have a problem."
"Do go on."
"She's been performing. She's been violating her agreement with Witness Protection. That's how they found her."
"And that's how I'll find her, Finch. Unless you'd rather do the honors."
Finch was grateful that Reese was several blocks away by now and thus unable to see his ears turn red.
"No, Mr. Reese, I have no interest in seeing Miss Corvis in that light." It wasn't totally a lie. He was, somewhere within his being, mortally afraid of being horrified by the life she led when she was busy being the other half of the girl he had met.
"Suit yourself."