Mr. Fearsome. His Nemesis, Bane of his Existence, and - he has to admit, very reluctantly - sometimes Hero. He's been halfway kidding about finding Finch's weapon of destruction bleeding out, but sees instantly that it may not be far from reality if the growing dark stain under that smartly clad leg is any indication.
"Detective! Are you still there?" This time there is no mistaking the alarm in the question.
"Got him, Professor. Let me check things out. I'll get back to you…"
"Oh, thank God. He's still alive then?" the computer genius replies, all artifice forgotten as equal shades of relief and worry color his voice.
Fusco holsters his gun and approaches the motionless figure. Damn, he'd better be alive. Like, he's not through yelling at the Suit yet; there are a lot of things still to call him on. For starters, what the hell was he doing here without back-up!
Oh, yeah, right. Mr. Deadly never needs help. Except maybe this time.
Fusco kneels next to the still body, the refrain still running through his head: "don't be dead…don't be dead…don't be dead…" And at the same time, if the guy is gone, he's already wondering how he's going to tell Finch. And Carter.
He reaches for the ex-op's neck, checking for a pulse.
"Don't worry, Lionel. Still above ground…"
Fusco almost jumps at the whispery voice, and then his hands go on auto-pilot, searching out the source of the bleeding. "Yeah. I figured. Only the good die young," he replies, surprising himself at how relieved he is at finding those peepers staring back at him, the blue of those eyes all the more notable against a face gone pale. But he doesn't analyze his reactions much; after all, this is his tormenter, the one who's spent the last several months pushing him into some pretty uncomfortable situations job wise.
Pushing? No, that's not even the right word. Coercing, forcing, blackmailing, threatening…
And right now that tormenter is lying propped up against a dirty building wall in his expensive suit not moving at all and has closed his eyes again as though to avoid looking death in the face. Despite Fusco's intention to come across as professional and detached, that worries him. A lot.
"Any other holes I should know about…other than this one in your leg?" he asks gruffly, running his hands over the taller man's body. He finds it amazing the injured man doesn't object, considering the whole I-am-your-boss vibe the guy usually projects when around others. But then maybe the Suit is beyond that right now. Again, not a good sign.
"Detective! I'd like a report..!" The sudden voice in his ear reminds him that Finch is listening in on every word; he's forgotten all about that little ear do-dad! Is this why Reese never seems concerned by his boss's constant surveillance…forgetting it's there, just like he just did?
"He's alive Professor. As far as I can tell there's just one hole…in his thigh. And from the looks of things…" Fusco probes under the leg, ignoring the ex-ops sudden intake of breath, "…a clean through and through. Right through the muscle." He sits back on his heels, very aware Reese is panting lightly through the pain. "Your boy must have someone in his corner; it missed a major artery. But from the size of that puddle, he's still lost a lot of blood." Too much.
"I've not been able to contact him all day." Finch says, self-incrimination now seemingly winning over distress. "It took some time to find him on the cameras…"
Fusco doesn't need to fill in the blanks. In this part of the city, it could be days before someone stumbled onto the mayhem in this alley, after which he would no longer have to worry about Mr. Sunshine here.
But right now he's got other things to be concerned about…like those sirens he hears in the distance. And that if he were to transport Finch's hired gun in his patrol car, he'd likely run right into the very crowd he needs to avoid. And wouldn't that be just peachy..!
In that fleeting thought he recognizes how committed he has become to marching in this Duo's parade; he doesn't even consider calling for outside medical assistance. If he doesn't keep Wonder Boy out of the system, he'll incur the wrath of both Finch and Carter. And he really doesn't know which would be worse!
"Hey, the uni's are on their way. We need to book outta here, but I can't…"
"Way ahead of you, Detective. Just get him to the street."
"What about my car?"
"They'll never notice the extra vehicle. Detective Carter is with them so she'll cover for you –somehow - and drive your patrol car back."
There were only a few times in his interactions with Finch that the geek sounded this forceful, but this was definitely one of those times.
"There should be a cab pulling up any minute. Get John out of that alley…now!"
Yeah, right. Not like Wonder Boy is going to get up and walk out of here without a lot of help. And the man was no light weight. But there wasn't much choice now was there? But first he's got to stop that leak. He reaches for Reese's belt buckle and in an instant his wrist is immobilized in a vise-like grip.
"Whoa! Take it easy Kemo Sabe! I'm only trying to help, not cop a feel!" The grip on his arm lessens minutely. "I need to get a tourniquet on that leg. You may not have a main break, but you still got some smaller pipes leaking like a sieve."
"Fine…" Reese whispers, allowing his hand to fall back to the ground. And as much as Fusco is relieved his charge is cooperating, part of him wishes Reese fought back a bit more. At least that would indicate the guy still has some energy left for what now has to happen.
He quickly pulls the belt out of its loops and places it as high up around the Suit's thigh as he can without interfering with the guy's family jewels. Because that, he thinks, Reese would probably find the energy to object to…
"You're going to have to help me here, buddy! You need to get up on your feet." He leans over, grabs Reese by the arm and pulls, eliciting a stifled groan from the injured man.
"Buddy..?" The incredulous response comes between pants, but Fusco pays no attention, concentrating on getting the ex-op's one good leg under him. And with a great deal of maneuvering, Reese is finally upright, leaning heavily on the cop.
Helping someone a good head taller ambulate is no easy task, especially when that someone has a leaking hole in one leg…as Fusco quickly finds out. He secures Reese's arm over his shoulder with one hand and encircles the taller mans waist with the other, grabbing a handful of expensive suit as an anchor.
Though Reese doesn't make a sound, his panting increases and the cop knows the taller man is trying desperately not to weigh down his rescuer…but Fusco simply pulls the ex-op against his own, more ample body and moves forward at as fast a pace as possible.
The sirens are closer now, and soon cruisers will circle around the storage building like a wolf pack coming in for a kill. He speeds up the pace, shutting out the heavy breathing in his ear. Better the guy hurt now than find himself in the slammer later…but it's never easy listening to someone in pain.
He just hopes to God that Finch has managed to find some transportation, or they'll both be in deep doo-doo.
Finally reaching the mouth of the alley, he's panting almost as heavily as his burden. But there is the taxi, just like Glasses promised! The cabby gets out and meets him halfway, grabbing Reese's other arm and between them they manage to stuff the Suit into the back seat, moving the ex-op's injured leg as gently as possible.
Fusco wonders if this driver is another one of Finch's assets, since the cabby says not one word to indicate he finds anything strange about the situation. Not even a directive to "don't bleed on my seats"… which event is a given.
They take off within seconds of the siren mob rounding the warehouse, and Fusco breathes a sigh of relief. He leans forward and scans the information on the back of the taxi driver's seat. "Uh…Fermin?" He reads the name on the registration card. "Any idea where we're supposed to be going?"
The cabby doesn't answer as he drives sedately and without any sign of alarm past several late coming patrol cars. Once beyond the screaming sirens and flashing lights, he turns onto the main boulevard and responds, "I have my instructions. Don't worry, I'll get you and your friend there in one piece."
(To be continued)