If I'm being honest, I had to force myself to get this done at some point, so it's probably not my best work (just letting you know ahead of time), but it has its moments. So, without further ado: the final chapter!
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Chapter 4 - The Cycle Starts Again
The safehouse door screeched open and Miles and Reese stepped into an ornately decorated apartment
"Wow this place is… weird." Miles observed. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere safe," a voice said from behind a wall. Finch then stepped out into the living area which allowed Miles to put a face to the voice.
"This guy is just as forthcoming as you are," Miles snorted, his comment aimed at the man who stood behind him. "Who the hell is he?"
"He's my uh- partner," Reese answered. He refused to offer up any more details.
"Another non-answer," Miles resided as he took a seat on the couch.
"Who we are isn't important, Mr. Miles. What is important is that we get you out of the city before the 'friends' you've made come after you again." The billionaire turned his attention to his employee and directed, "Mr. Reese, perhaps you could go inform Detective Carter of the situation in Queens. I'm sure her and Detective Fusco could take care of that matter for us."
Without a word, the ex-op nodded in understanding and headed into one of the bedrooms to make the call, leaving his boss to talk to the number alone. Finch then returned to his laptop which was sitting on the dining room table just a few feet away. He sat down to finish the last minute details on their plan to get their number out of the city and away from the situation he had put himself in when Miles broke the silence.
"That wasn't the whole gang, you know," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Pardon?" Finch asked, looking up from the screen.
"The five members your 'partner' there saved me from," Miles clarified. "That's not the whole gang. And I won't leave this city until I see them all pay for what they did," his expression turned to one of determination.
"Mr. Miles, I've looked into their criminal activity very thoroughly. I found no solid indication that any of them were involved in the Times Square incident that killed your sister."
"It doesn't matter. They're just as responsible for it," Miles asserted as he stood up and started pacing around the apartment.
"And how does that follow?" Finch wondered.
"Paragon are all just different brands of the same cruelty. Most of them are killers in their own right."
"Is that how you see my associate and I? As killers?"
"I couldn't say. I don't even know you, or why the hell you're helping me."
"You say you can't judge us because you don't know us, but didn't you just condemn people you don't know as murderers?"
"That's different. I have evidence that they're criminals."
"But you didn't say they were responsible for your sister's death because they were criminals. You claimed they were responsible because they're paragon."
"Clearly you've never lost someone to this sort of violence or you wouldn't be defending them."
Finch's blood started to boil at the condescending and accusatory tone Miles took while delivering that statement. But the hacker knew that getting outwardly angry would only make the situation worse, so he collected his thoughts and answered in a strong voice, "Oh, but I do know what you're going through Mr. Miles, which is the reason I defend them."
"Now you've lost me," the PI admitted.
"You see violence isn't restricted to a specific group of people. I lost a dear friend in an explosion much like the one that took your sister's life not that long ago. The humans responsible for his death never received any retribution, but even if they did it wouldn't bring my friend back."
There was no response, at least not at first. Miles started fidgeting with his hands and didn't even look up to ask, "So is that your advice to me? Give up?"
"It's not giving up, Mr. Miles. It's letting go. Dwelling on the past will only make your situation worse, and seeking revenge will only destroy you in the end. Take it from someone who has been down this road before…"
This was Finch being vague, as well as very hypocritical. The truth was that he hadn't even taken his own advice about moving on two years ago when his friend was killed. The truth was he wasn't just trying to save the people Miles was planning on going after. No, he was trying to save Miles from falling down the same path he had. The truth was Miles reminded him a lot of himself, and he was going to be the voice of reason he lost in an explosion two years ago.
Miles didn't have an immediate response to the billionaire's story. After a few silent seconds of thinking, he settled for a slight topic change, "Ok… hypothetically, if I were to agree to go along with your plan- which I'm not saying I do- what exactly would happen?"
"We would set you up with a new identity and the proper funds to start a new life somewhere else," Finch answered flatly.
"Where would that 'somewhere else' be?"
"California. Close to your parents and far from here. Your flight would leave tomorrow."
"That… actually sounds like a good plan. Especially considering all that's happened here."
"Our thoughts exactly."
There was another lull in the conversation as Finch turned back to his computer. Not a second later, Reese walked back into the room and informed them, "It's taken care of."
"Thank you, Mr. Reese."
The private investigator took a seat across the table from the eccentric billionaire before asking, "So what do I do now?"
"Until you leave in the morning? Nothing." Finch responded. "You'll have a long flight tomorrow. I suggest getting some rest. You can stay here for the night. It probably wouldn't be wise for you to go home right now. Like you said, we didn't apprehend the whole gang."
"I just might take you up on that," Miles sighed. Almost getting killed takes a lot out of you. That and the fact that it was eleven o'clock at night already added up to exhaustion.
"The bedroom down the hall is open. There's extra clothes in the dresser if you need them," Finch informed the young man.
"Not to sound like a broken record but: this place is weird," Miles laughed. "Thanks, though," he added as he walked down the hall into the bedroom.
For a minute, nothing was heard except for the clicking of computer keys. Reese hadn't even noticed he's just been staring at his boss for a solid thirty until Finch broke the silence, "Why don't you head home, John? I can wrap things up with Miles here in the morning."
Reese blinked, "Are you sure you're going to be ok here?"
"I'll be fine. Mr. Miles seems to have come to his senses. I don't think he's a threat anymore," the hacker assured.
"That's not what I meant," Reese said slowly.
Finch's fingers froze over the keys and he looked up at his employee with a tense look on his face. Please don't tell me you heard our conversation with our number, Finch thought to himself.
Reese elaborated, "I heard what Miles said to you- about losing people to violence."
"Oh," Finch sighed.
And that's what I was afraid of.
"How much did you hear?" Finch wondered.
"I'd be willing to bet it was more than you wanted me to hear…" Reese replied sheepishly.
Still refusing to respond aloud, Finch thought to himself, well apparently you heard more than nothing, Mr. Reese, so yes, you heard more than I would have liked.
Reese added, "Just… take care of yourself, Finch," before letting himself out and leaving his boss to ponder the events of the past few hours.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Even though Finch assured Reese that his assistance wasn't needed in the morning, the ex-op still stopped by the safehouse before their number left. When he arrived, the Man in the Suit couldn't help but notice that Finch was sitting in the exact same seat he was when he left the night before.
Upon hearing the door open, Finch jumped and said, "Mr. Reese! I thought I told you I would take care of Miles' situation this morning."
"You did," Reese remembered. "But someone had to make sure you slept today."
"Oh dear. What time is it?" The fugitive asked. Usually not knowing what time it was meant the man hadn't fallen asleep in a while.
"About eight in the morning," Reese informed. "Is that your way of admitting you haven't slept all night?"
"It's called insomnia, John."
"I think it's called staring at a computer screen all night, Harold."
Clearly, John's employer was not amused by this comment. John thought it was pretty good. Before Finch could object to Reese's off-handed humor, the door to the safehouse opened. The person who walked in was none other than Detective Fusco.
"Am I interrupting something?" the detective assumed.
"You're always interrupting something, Lionel," Reese teased.
"Yeah, it's nice to see you, too," Fusco answered sarcastically. "I swear, I don't get paid enough for this crap."
"We don't pay you at all, Detective," Finch pointed out as he stood up and joined Reese and the detective in the living room.
Maybe it's time we change that, the detective thought. And of course, Finch had just as liberal a view on how to use his psychic ability as he did on how to use a cell phone microphone.
"If you want a raise, Detective, all you need to do is ask," Finch said.
"Did you just read my mind again?" Fusco guessed. "I hate it when you do that!"
Reese cracked a smile at his partner's slight misuse of power.
"So where's our guy?" The detective asked, changing the subject abruptly.
As if on cue, Miles stepped into the room dressed as if he was ready to walk out the door any second. He must have made use of the spare clothes, as well.
"I'm here," Miles announced. "Who are you?"
"This is Lionel. He's uh- a friend," Reese hesitated.
"Right, just like this guy is your uh- partner," Miles mimicked.
Reese offered a weak smile rather than an answer.
"Alright, kid. Let's go," Lionel interrupted. The detective opened the door and gestured for Miles to hurry up.
The PI turned to Finch and said, "Thank you. For everything."
Finch just smiled and held out a large brown envelope. Miles took it as Finch explained, "Everything you need is there. New name, new bank account, sufficient funds."
"You don't mess around," Miles observed. "Thanks again. Both of you," he adds, directing his next statement at John. "I'd actually be dead if it weren't for you." Turning back to Finch, he acknowledged, "And I'd be… in a bad place right now- to say the least- if it weren't for you."
Finch nodded, shaking Miles' hand. Reese then did the same and the PI disappeared through the door with the detective.
"Do you think he'll be ok?" Reese wondered aloud.
"An emotional scar like that doesn't go away easily- as you very well know," Finch answered. "But I think he's headed in the direction of recovery."
He's only headed in that direction because of you, Reese thought.
Reese didn't want that to go through their connection, but Finch used his administrative access to the line to receive it regardless.
"Your role in his recovery was a little more important than mine, Mr. Reese."
The ex-op gave the hacker a sideways glance.
"What? You think I only use my element to torture the poor detective?" Finch inquired, turning around and returning to his rightful place at his computer.
The ex-military man didn't really have a response, except for hoping that the reclusive hacker didn't read his mind without his knowledge all the time.
With another number saved, the only thing left to do was wait for the next one to come up. When it did, they would be ready. And the cycle would start again.
The End.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Not my strongest finish, but I had a lot of fun writing it! I've been toying with the idea of writing another story in this AU that would probably be longer and add in Root and Shaw! If that's something you'd be interesting in reading or you just want to give me some feedback on this story, feel free to leave a comment! Thanks for reading and have a great week, my fellow Irrelevants :)