Death of Innocence

D20

Library Office, Midtown Manhattan, same night

Finch had projected the screen view of his laptop onto a larger screen on his desk.

Both he and Miss Shaw could see it better that way. Especially for viewing the video gathered by the Machine. They ran through it once, together, to get the sense of the whole route he'd taken, and then they'd broken it down – in parts, finer and finer, to look for smaller clues that might have escaped them the first few times through.

Miss Shaw sipped her coffee: a large, black, no sugar. Finch had his tea, Sencha, green and gently aromatic out of his china cup. A pot of it rested in front of him, tea cozy snugged over the top for warmth. Hot food, hastily ordered upon their return; comfort for the soul, though.


Talked it through, the way colleagues do. They'd needed to back up quite a bit to begin.

This latest seemed to start with HR - and the raid by the FBI to take them down. They'd thought they'd had all of them with the raid, but things had clarified later. The one they'd thought in charge? Not so. A hidden boss with the most to gain, standing at the crossroads of power and influence: Alonzo Quinn. And for the men on the street, the enforcers? Simmons had the lead.

As HR had begun to crumble, all eyes had turned to Carter. Her files, hidden somewhere, incriminating to men like Quinn, Simmons. Had to get the files, then, to save their skins. Tried to get to Carter and missed. So, they took her partner, Fusco, instead. Down, into the fortune cookie factory. Maybe they should have checked their own fortunes first.

Tried to make him talk. Where did Carter hide her files? Didn't go well for him, at the start. But when he wouldn't spill, they went for his son; and Lee was home, alone.

They'd sent a cop after a kid.

Things didn't go very well for him, either – the cop. Miss Shaw had intervened. But then, she'd had to choose: Fusco or his son. Could only be in one place at one time. Thought the latter was what he'd choose. At least, he'd understand.


No files, and no Fusco to knock around anymore. So, an army of HR and street thugs started in after Joss; Reese running interference for her, too, along the route. On her way to the FBI with Quinn in tow; four blocks short, they'd needed to hunker down. Surrounded. HR and every criminal on Manhattan, literally stalking them. Thanks to Quinn.

So, they'd holed up in the City Morgue, 'til Reese'd left - leading the attack away from Joss. He'd intended to sacrifice himself, if need be, to give her the chance to make it. And when she did, when they did, a victory. HR all but dead now, except for Simmons. And he was a wanted man – face on every paper in the City.

Short-lived, their victory.

Standing together, the two of them talking, waiting for Finch to arrive with his car...

Simmons stepped from the dark with his gun in his hand. Took out Reese first, then Carter, who'd had enough time to fire before she went down. Wounded, too, he'd turned and left the scene.


Finch blanched again at the thought. His Team in tatters, torn and worse. Mr. Reese, shattered; he'd barely survived the night.

If it hadn't been for heroic work, a surgeon and Miss Shaw at his side, John would have perished in his care. Too close, and too many times for John.

This is not how he'd imagined their work to be. Intervening to assist, bringing justice to those who would harm. He never saw it like this. Real people. His friends. His Team. Gone. Not sure he could do this anymore. He felt done with it.

Things out there would need to take care of themselves, now. It'd always been like that, out there. This wasn't their responsibility. Not anymore.

He just had to find Mr. Reese again. Bring him back in. Back to his family. Found family – not his own, but all that he had for now. Finch thought about it. How once he'd believed: People don't change people; only time does. But now he knew, without doubt, he'd been wrong. So wrong.

It was People who'd etched their changes onto their own – good or bad. Time was just the container that held them all - while all the etching was done inside.


"What are you thinking, Finch?" she'd asked, after such a long pause.

He'd been staring out into space - like he did, sometimes. Shaw had always had her troubles reading people, like this. Wasn't her thing to "get" their expressions, read what they were thinking, inside. Her flaw. Her Disorder. Like a blanket over that part of her, smothered.

Feelings? Emotions? Connection? Didn't see the light of day, for her. Smothered under the blanket of her Disorder. She knew it. She'd read about it. Could expound on it, to anyone else who'd wanted to know. But that's where it'd ended.


What do you do when there's so little feeling inside? A flaw like that. Brilliant as a doctor, but not enough feeling inside, they'd said. How about an assassin, then? That seemed to fit.

Until they'd turned on one of their own. Stopped fitting for her, after that. Tried something else then. And found a home there, as much as she could sense having a home. And a Family, if that's what'd really mattered, after all.

She'd found work again. Not so easy to do - with a skillset such as her own. A little peace'd come her way every once in a while.

Liked it here, enough. Thought maybe she'd stay for a while.

And God help those who'd try to take it - take them - from her. Fair warning: "you'll regret laying a hand on any one of them."


Finch appeared pensive to her:

"I see Mr. Reese returning to the places most meaningful to him right now. He's leaving, Miss Shaw. I mean really leaving. So, these are his final looks at the places he values the most: where he and Detective Carter met for the first time. The corner where she – left us. Maybe even his apartment. It seems he'd grown fond of it over our time together."

He paused for a moment. It was a lot for her to take in. Her disorder. After a moment, he glanced over to Miss Shaw.


Her eyes were calm, dark pools. Listening. Aware. But not really understanding it all.

Took it in all the same.

Impeccable memory.

She'd store it, somewhere, under some title like "Odd things to know about Reese." She was sure if she looked, plenty of stuff already there.

Looked back to Finch, then. Her eyes: calm, dark pools.

"So, where do we go from here, Finch?"