End of Innocence
Chapter 16
Cabin, Cimarron, evening
Chase had gone and come back, this time with a plow on the front of his truck. He'd driven it home from the spot in front of the cabin and then had come back with the plow to clear the drive.
Snow crews were really good out here. They kept the highways clear, even when feet of snow fell through the night. But the driveways were up to the owners to clear and the one running in from the highway to the cabin was at least a half-mile long.
The sound of the plow outside got Shaw's attention. She found Reese staring out the front door, watching Chase scrape the snow off the path. Poured a coffee for herself and went out to her cushy chair by the couch in the living room. Chase had come up to the door and tossed the keys for the truck to Reese, and then he'd left with his car to head back down the mountain to town. Reese dropped the keys on the table near the door and turned around.
"He's coming back tomorrow morning to plow us out again. Snow should be over by then, and nothing else coming in for a few days. You should be able to get out okay and get back to New York," he said, eyes anywhere else but on hers.
Shaw nodded. Reese walked past her to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. He started to reach for a beer but stopped himself. Decided a coffee would be safer, instead. Poured a cup and wandered back to the couch across from Shaw.
Tried to sit, but the grimace on his face told her things were still bad there on his side. Sitting probably stretched and pulled at the wound. And everything inside wanted to push forward and gapped the edges even more. Better to lean back and let the wound rest, no stress pulling at it.
Reese rolled down to lean on the arm of the couch. He sipped his coffee and seemed lost in thought to her.
Shaw felt a little chill in the air and glanced over at the wood stove.
Looked like it was starting to run down, and she got up to throw a few more logs inside. Then she went back to the deck for a few fresh ones to use later on. Snow was still falling out there and there were a couple of feet of new snow covering the back yard.
As she passed him on her way back to the stove, she said, "You know I'd be here if Finch didn't need us back in New York." Reese didn't respond at first. She dumped the logs on the floor and knelt down next to them. Reese stared into the air over the top of his cup.
"Don't think I can do this anymore, Shaw," in his whisper-voice. She hadn't heard him, stacking the wood next to the stove.
Hard for Reese to hear it, himself. Never thought he'd be backing away from the things he'd always done, always been: soldier, covert agent, asset.
Now, what was he?
Library Office, Manhattan, same evening
Bear lifted his head, and then stood up, alerted.
Finch noticed and glanced down the hallway. A familiar figure was walking their way.
"Hi, Harry. Miss me?" She had that sly smile of hers on her face. Finch tried to prepare himself for whatever might come.
"Indeed, Miss Groves. Remarkably quiet here, lately. I was beginning to think everyone's decided to give us some time off for the holidays. No new numbers for days."
Root smiled mischievously. "Maybe She knew you needed a little time off."
"She?"
"The Machine, of course, Harry. She's speaking to me with a woman's voice."
Finch wasn't so quick to respond. Not sure what to think about that.
Miss Groves claimed that the Machine actually spoke with her, conversed by phone in a female voice. Couldn't say the same for him: he could and usually did speak directly to the Machine through his laptop camera. But the Machine always responded by typing on his screen. The only voice he'd ever heard was the electronic one – given to the Machine to recite the Numbers to them on the phone.
How was it that the Machine was now conversing directly to Miss Groves? A crazy thought came to mind.
"Miss Groves, tell me, whatever happened to the cochlear implant you asked me to build?"
"We've put it to good use, Harry." That mischievous smile was there again.
"You didn't – "
"We did. See?" And Root turned her head so that Finch could see the faint pink scar on the skin behind her left ear.
"How? Why?" Finch seemed to be at a loss for the moment. Root sat him down at his desk and pulled a chair up next to him. This was going to take some time to explain.
"Harry, a few things happened while you were trapped in the vault with Arthur Claypool. I haven't told you before – you've had enough to worry about," she began. He stared into her eyes like he was about to hear something – otherworldly.
"I'm listening," he said.
"When you and Sameen were able to escape with Arthur from that hotel room – I didn't exactly get out, myself."
"What are you saying, Miss Groves?"
"They caught me, Harry – Hersh, and Control. Tried to get me to tell them details about the Machine, but when I resisted, Control – " Root paused, looking for the right way to say it.
"I'm listening," Finch said, fully alarmed now.
"She took my hearing away – on this side," and she turned her left ear toward him. "And then she told me the other side'd be next, and my sight after that." Finch visibly shuddered and started to turn pale.
"Oh, Miss Groves – why didn't you tell me!" he said and, "How did you get away?"
She actually smiled then, like she was delighted with the chance to tell him. Finch shook his head at her reaction.
"She told me how to escape, Harry. Listen to this. She spoke in just a high-enough frequency that I could hear Her, but Control couldn't. Too old to hear sounds up that high, She told me. And the key to the door was in her pocket, so all I had to do was get to the key." Root looked triumphant, telling him.
"Miss Groves, I – I don't know what to say. Your hearing – "
She smiled again. "That's not the end of the story, Harry. The implant, remember?"
His eyes widened. "How?"
"Well, it did take some convincing. You don't wanna ask how. But I found someone willing to hook it up, and now I can hear again. Harry, I can hear Her! She talks to me now, through the implant you built!"
Finch was speechless for a moment. A flood of emotions, questions hit him all at once, while Root just smiled. All the damage he'd wrought with his brainchild: Nathan, Grace, Detective Carter, Mr. Reese, and now this, with Miss Groves. Hardly anyone untouched on his Team. His face betrayed his emotions. Root scooped up his hand with hers.
"She says to tell you 'it's all going to be okay', Harry, and not to worry. She has a plan."
Finch stared off into the distance. He'd never expected something like this.
Cabin, Cimarron, same evening
After dinner, Reese washed up their two plates and the pan from heating their food, while Shaw'd headed to the living room. She came back with a brown bottle in her hand and cranked the cap off the top.
"Just one for now," she said. "I need you to be awake to watch me." Shaw shook a single tablet out to her palm and handed it to Reese. He stared at it, and then dropped it into his chest pocket on his shirt.
"Suit yourself," she said, and turned around to the living room. He heard her setting up for the evening's 'wound care' event and thought about testing what she'd said about whiskey and his antibiotics. He'd regret mixing the two, she'd said. How bad could it be?
He limped out to the living room and stopped in front of the cabinet, where the bottle of whiskey sat, tempting him. Shaw glanced at him but didn't offer a second warning. Sometimes, people just had to find out for themselves. He took out one of the heavy-bottomed glasses from the cabinet and twisted the top off the bottle.
Nearly empty, and he splashed the last of it into the glass. Held it up to the light, and stared at the color – amber, with the lamplight glowing through it. Reese brought it close and took a sniff of its scent, twirling the glass below his nose. Shaw could see the smile lines deepen next to his eyes.
He limped forward and stopped in front of her at the table. Held it up like a salute to her, and then placed it on the table next to her setup. He pointed at the glass. "For you," he said, and Shaw squinted for a second.
"Where do you want me this time?" he asked.
"Let's get the IV going first, and then the rest over there on the couch." She pointed to a chair next to the table, and Reese lowered himself down on the seat. Took his temperature with the probe under his tongue and turned it around so he could see: 100.5. Still too high for her standards. One day without a temp and she'd get rid of the IV.
Shaw left and came back with her hands washed and dried. She slid on a pair of gloves and then checked the arm on his left side this time. Seemed to avoid the vein at the elbow and went for one lower down on his forearm. She was quick, and the IV was in before he knew it. Shaw used it to run in one of the antibiotics. The other one would go in later, she said.
He watched her work. Those calm, dark eyes. Remembered seeing them – back in Finch's library office – looking up from the hospital bed and seeing them. Remembered feeling like a wounded soldier delivered to the hands of another warrior. Relief, in the middle of all that pain.
He'd dreamed about it. How many times had she scraped him off the floor like that? He knew he owed her. Didn't know now how he'd ever make things even.
She looked up at him. He had a look in his eyes, but these were the things she'd always struggled with. Frustrated her.
"What?" she said, almost annoyed. His eyes changed to a blue she'd never seen before.
"I owe you, Shaw," he managed, in his whisper-voice. Her eyes never changed: cool, calm, liquid dark eyes staring at his.
"I didn't come all the way out here to fix you up and send you back to the meat grinder. A smart man'd walk away," she said.
The blue changed again.
Distant. Cool.
Like he was looking out to the mountains...