End of Innocence

Chapter 9

Cabin, Cimarron, December 2013

Shaw had just finished giving Reese a dose of a second antibiotic through the IV. It was late now. She retreated to the kitchen, where the coffee had just finished brewing. This was gonna be a long night for sure.

When she went back out there, she glanced over at Chase – there on one of the chairs, his feet up on an ottoman, and a blanket thrown over him. He wouldn't leave after they'd gotten through the operation. Shaw'd tried to send him home, but he'd decided to stay in case Reese started getting out of hand when he woke up. Funny how he'd seemed to take it as his responsibility to keep Reese from crossing certain boundaries. They must have spent a lot of time together in some tough situations, she thought.

Shaw checked her notes. The fever was still going. It'd take a day or two for the antibiotics to get things under control enough to bring the fever down. He'd need two to cover the bugs that could've been there causing the abscess. And she was playing catch-up now. The bugs had been winning.

If he'd stayed back in New York, she could've kept an eye on him and prevented or at least jumped on the infection faster. He'd probably been walking around with it for days or a week, getting sicker and sicker. Reese didn't tend to pay much attention to things that'd bring most people to their knees. It took a lot to stop him in his tracks. He just pushed through, like most of the people on the Team. Seemed to go with the territory and the kind of people they were.

Shaw noticed a heavy-bottomed glass sitting on a table in the living room, like Reese had left it there the night before. She picked it up and took a sniff. Recognized the whiskey inside. She brought it along with her and sat down in one of the other overstuffed chairs facing the couch where Reese was stretched out. She held the glass out like a salute to him and took a sip.

Attitude adjustment in a glass. She'd take care of the rest of it, since Reese wasn't gonna be drinking it. Shame to waste it.

Colorado, July 1984

Boughs over the top of him made the sunlight dapple over him, lying in the canoe. In and out of deep shadow and the brighter light filtering down through the canopy. He'd leaned back in the canoe and let the current take him.

Here, along the shoreline, a heavy layer of thick muck sat heating in the sunlight, and Reese could hear the sounds of insects buzzing around him, and then clicking noises. He glanced over. Dragonflies flitting at the water's edge, with their cellophane wings clicking as they swooped and fluttered above the mud.

Further down, the trees had given way to low bushes crowding up along the riverbank, and on the hills above, a soft sighing sound of the wind in the long-needle pines up there. So quiet. It made him breathe deeper with the sound of it.

Birds chattering away, and a bullfrog interrupting the conversation every once in a while. He kept his eyes closed to listen to the life around him.

And down below, the stands of cattails had started. Tall and deep-green, thick stems with their heavy brown heads thudding up against one another in the breeze.

Reese saw himself lying back, carried on the current, a smile on his face. Some of the best days of his life, those. Hard to accept how things'd changed so much since then.

Reese could hear before he could see anything. And aware of all the pain in his side.

What was that? He'd started to reach and find out, but something had grabbed his hand. Wasn't gonna happen. He lunged forward even before his eyes had opened. But something hit him in the chest and forced him back. All the wind knocked out of him.

"Whoa, buddy. Take it easy!" Chase had heard him stirring and got up to check on him. Shaw opened an eye and then sat forward on her chair under a throw. She'd taken a sleep break when Chase woke up to switch places with her.

Reese had his eyes open, but they weren't sure if he was all there yet. He'd looked one way, then another, but didn't say anything.

Shaw threw the blanket off her and got up. Morning light was coming in through the windows. She checked her watch. She'd need to take another set of vitals on Reese, especially the temp, and then give him the next round of antibiotics through the IV. She'd kept it going at the minimum rate through the night, just to keep the access. And he'd likely needed some fluids after sweating quarts from the fever.

"Reese?" He turned toward her. His face still looked flushed, and he had dark circles under his eyes. Wasn't right yet, and she was sure it'd be a while before he'd be anything like normal. A lot of work for one man.

Library office, Manhattan, same day

Finch sat in front of his monitor cluster in his office. Something wasn't right. Radio silence from his Team the last day or two. He'd let them have their time to recover from recent events. And he still held out hope that Mr. Reese would have a change of heart, once he'd had some time to re-group.

Speaking of hearts, Finch hadn't had the heart to tell the rest of the Team about the newest intel coming in – this news about John Greer and Samaritan. He'd kept it to himself. Although, he'd learned it from Miss Groves – and she was certainly capable of acting on her own in these matters.

A strange request had come from her. She'd wanted to know more about a certain kind of device used by people with hearing loss. That was odd. He tried to imagine what she planned to do with a cochlear implant. He had to admit, researching the device had given him respite from all of these heavy thoughts and the tragedy that had befallen the Team. He'd dived into the project with the same kind of single-minded abandon as he'd pursued the creation of the Machine itself.

And the Machine had seemed to take a peculiarly strong interest in his efforts with the implant. Almost like a collaborator on the project. He'd welcomed the input and suggestions. The Machine had even offered to test the circuits itself, practicing making barely audible sounds come out of the device. Harold knew that the sounds coming out were primitive compared to a real human voice, for example. The technology was still in its infancy. But he felt sure that this would change over time, and that hearing impaired people would benefit in the long run.

Once he'd been satisfied with his final tweaks and adjustments, he'd turned the device over to Miss Groves for whatever plan she'd had to use it. That sly smile of hers never ceased to make him feel like there'd be much more to this than she'd let on. He'd just have to wait for the inevitable surprise.

And so, after the flurry of activity there had been, the sudden silence seemed odd. Ominous? He couldn't tell yet.

Finch had the Machine go through his morning ritual with him. Rolling out a series of screens containing the current status of a number of projects and programs he followed on a regular basis. As his eyes scanned down the pages, the Machine scrolled for him. If he hesitated over a spot, the Machine took note and offered a link or video at the margin of the page, to bring him to further reading on the point. Sometimes he went along on the ride, and sometimes he pressed ahead. The Machine adjusted, without comment or fuss.

Cabin, Cimarron, same day

Chase had brewed a new pot of coffee to get them started on the day, and the scent seemed to perk Reese up for a cup of the brew. He looked a little more human after that. Shaw was able to get him to swallow a pain pill by bribing him with a sip of the coffee. Once he'd taken the pill, she let him have his own half-cup to work on. If he kept that down, they could see how he did with some food. Reese didn't remember anything about the last few days. It'd probably come back at some point, but for now he just watched the two of them circling around him.

Something told him he'd been a handful, the way they'd acted.