Bait
Jezyk
Spoilers: Through 01X12 Legacy
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were!

Part One

He was bored. Really bored. It had been two solid days since the last number had been dealt with and Reese was ready to climb the walls. When he asked, Finch shrugged and said it happened on occasion. Reese stared, hoping it was another one of Finch's incomprehensible jokes, waiting for his boss to admit he had a new number for them to work on.

When Finch waved his hand around and suggested Reese choose a book from the library stacks, Reese realized his boss wasn't kidding. And it certainly wasn't funny.

He sat down in the chair beside Finch and grabbed the keyboard, bringing up the camera aimed at Carter's desk. She was getting up, attaching her weapon to her belt, discussing a case with Fusco. With a frown, Reese turned to Finch. "Even Carter has work to do."

Finch snatched the keyboard back and returned to the program he'd been working on. "Yes, Mr. Reese, murders continue, though there is a merciful hiatus in malice aforethought today."

What Finch didn't seem to realize was that Reese couldn't stand being bored. Bad things happened when he was bored. Bad things that usually involved imbibing quite a lot of alcohol. He'd sworn the stuff off after Finch's goons had abducted him that night, when he'd gone to bed in a shithole by-the-hour establishment and woken up handcuffed to a bed in a four-star hotel without any memory of the events in between.

No, alcohol was not good for a man who liked to be in control at all times.

He'd just have to come up with something to do with himself.

#####

He didn't even intend it consciously, no, it just kind of happened. He somehow arrived a few blocks from the address Carter and Fusco had been talking about. He used his phone to turn on the mike on Carter's, listening in as she discussed the case with her partner. It wasn't work, but it was something to do.

He waited on the sidewalk of the building they were in, finding nothing they were saying nearly interesting enough, though he had to admit that listening to Carter's voice was hardly the worst way to waste some hours.

His phone buzzed, interrupting the connection to Carter's cell. Finch. Thank god. Saved from the boredom. "Yes, Finch?"

"What are you doing, Mr. Reese?"

He grinned, waiting for a hint of which direction he should aim in. "Hopefully working on a new number."

"Do you know something I don't, Mr. Reese?" Finch sounded worried, as though Reese had been able to secretly divert the machine's numbers to himself.

"Isn't that why you're calling?"

"No, I haven't received any new numbers. I was wondering if we have a meeting planned with the detectives today."

Fuck. Bastard was tracking him too. Reese glowered at his phone, wishing he'd thought about it sooner. Of course Finch would be tracking him. It could even come in handy if he were injured again. But when he was spying on Carter… not so much.

"I'm bored, Harold."

"I noticed, John."

"You don't want to see me bored." He let the threat hang in the air, hoping it might dissuade Finch from spying on him, but he realized that watching him probably thrilled Finch the same way watching people amused Reese. "Don't call me unless you've got something for me to do, Harold."

"Don't do anything stupid, Mr. Reese."

Reese grinned, figuring Finch was staring at him through some surveillance camera somewhere. "I never do anything stupid, Mr. Finch."

"Then don't do anything dangerous either."

"Oh, Harold, where's your sense of adventure?" He disconnected the phone and headed into the building.

If Harold didn't approve, stalking Detective Carter was bound to be fun.

He waited in the hallway, listening to the conjecture between the two detectives, and upon deciding they weren't heading out any time soon, he moved closer. Carter was, as usual, wrapped up in the case, focusing on all the details she could understand. Fusco sounded, as usual, bored, offering his partner pessimistic reasons for every question she raised.

Another few steps brought him close enough to hear an echo between their voices over the phone and in person. He couldn't resist. It wasn't physically possible. Carter would be wearing heels and Fusco wasn't about to run anywhere, so even if they saw him, well, he was bored. He needed someone to play with. It was no fun to be a mouse without a cat around to chase him.

He peered around the door, almost wishing Finch's voice was in his ear to report where everyone was. The body had been moved, but the outline remained on the floor. Fusco was facing the opposite direction, playing with his phone. Unable to see Carter, which he realized was his goal in all this, he moved further, peeking into the far side of the apartment. She stopped talking mid-sentence, sending a shot of adrenaline through him as he prepared to make a run for it.

But she wasn't looking at him. No, her eyes and her frown were directed at Fusco. She shook her head and turned away, continuing to search through the drawers for something.

He knew a bad idea when he had one. Slipping back away from the door and around the corner, he dialed her number.

"Yeah, Carter." She sounded irritated.

All the better to toy with.

"Is Fusco playing Angry Birds again? Your partner really shouldn't ignore you like that. It's just rude."

He could practically see the look on her face as she realized he was there. He heard the click of her heels on the tiled floor as she raced to the hallway, the volume of her voice changing as she looked side to side.

"Where are you? What do you want?" Irritated and frustrated, her voice still had a lilt to it. She chose the wrong direction, heading down that hall and looking both ways before retracing her steps to check the other one.

He was already in the stairwell by then. "I want your partner to be more polite."

"I'll tell him you said so." She waited a beat. "Is there a reason you're calling?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Is there something you need to talk to me about?"

"No. Just checking in." Fearing he might have said too much and given away his inexplicable desire to ruffle her feathers, he hung up and headed down to the street.

He listened in as Fusco questioned her as to why she'd gone running out of the room and her pathetic attempts to claim it had something to do with her son. He listened to her hem and haw when Fusco pointed out that her son usually used her other line. Carter stuttered as she made up a story about having a new phone plan with free calls to explain the phone Reese had given her.

As they finished searching the apartment, coming up empty, Reese called her back. No sense letting a murder go unsolved. "You should check with the tenants across the hall, detective."

"Why?" Her voice dropped to a whisper to keep Fusco from listening in. "The uniforms already did a canvas. They didn't find anything."

"Maybe it's just me, but I'd be curious to know what it was that got dragged out of the deceased apartment recently." He listened as she investigated, quickly finding the chips of paint that were still lying by both doors that had given Reese the hint.

"Hey, Fusco, look at this." She shifted the phone back to her mouth. "Thanks for the tip."

"You're welcome, detective." Then he waited, letting her do her job. She was damn good at it, but sometimes everyone could use a nudge in the right direction.

He chuckled when the pair emerged from the building a few minutes later. Carter was searching for him, amid the crowd, her hair swinging back and forth as her head turned. He felt the excitement in his veins each time she looked in his direction, wondering if she'd spot him, hoping she would, praying she wouldn't. Being caught wasn't any fun, it was being chased that amused him.

And luckily, Carter was always game for a good chase.

As they walked, Reese fell in line behind them, always keeping an ear to their conversation while he watched her. There was something about her, the way she moved, the way she talked, that mesmerized him. She was a tough, no-nonsense cop; she'd been an army interrogator too. She was hard as nails, and yet somehow, all woman. Most of the time, he got that cop attitude from her, all questions and accusations. But once in a blue moon, he'd get more, he'd get Jocelyn rather than Carter, like when she'd thanked him for saving her life with a voice soft as silk, like when she'd apologized for not knowing Snow was going to shoot him. He wanted to watch her forever, or at least until he understood the hold she had over him, the hold she didn't even seem to realize she had.

And he was certainly enjoying the view from behind her, entranced by the way her jeans hugged her curves. He could imagine how she would feel against him, his hands tracing her ass, her body molding to his as his mouth claimed hers.

Oh fuck. He hadn't noticed when they stopped and damn near walked into them. That would have been awkward, especially at a moment when he wasn't sure he could keep his hands from reaching for her.

Seamlessly changing his path so that he only brushed past her shoulder, he came to a stop at the next store. He could see her reflection while he pretended to window shop, watching and listening as Fusco insisted on stopping at a hot dog cart for lunch.

"I didn't bring my wallet, Fusco, I'm hungry too. Let's go back to the precinct."

Fusco ignored her as he gave his order, glancing at her only when he was handing over the cash for his lunch. "I've got a couple extra bucks. You want something?"

She nodded, choosing a pretzel and taking a bite.

Reese gave her a few minutes to eat, once again trailing behind them as they walked. Finally, when she threw the wrapper in the trash, he called again. "That's not a healthy meal, detective."

Her expression was pinched as she looked around again at the realization he was still tailing her. "You have any better suggestions?"

His eyes fell on a swanky little Italian place on the next corner, a sign proclaiming their Zagat rating in the glass. "What about Maggiano's? It looks cleaner than a food cart. They even have tables there."

She was smiling as she sized up the restaurant. "Somehow I doubt it's free."

"Don't worry, Carter. I always pay when I take a lady to dinner."

The expression on her face was priceless at that moment and Reese vowed to find the footage from the camera so he could see it again.

"So these ladies you take to dinner, do you actually sit at a table and eat with them or just call to comment on their food choices from across the room?"

He fought to keep from letting her hear his chuckle. "Perhaps you'd rather eat with Fusco."

She looked at Fusco, who was licking mustard off his fingers, and then shook her head. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you have better table manners."

"That's not really asking much, now is it?"

"So, is that an option?" She hesitated and Reese found it entirely endearing to see the nervous way she bit her lip before continuing. "Having dinner?"

"Detective Carter, did you just ask me on a date?" He didn't even know what he was saying. He couldn't seem to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. And he sure as hell wasn't sure what he'd do if she said she was.

Damn it, he hated it when Finch was right. He was doing something stupid and dangerous and he knew he wasn't about to stop.

"No, I did not just ask you on a date!" Her shout garnered the attention of half the block.

He noticed the way Fusco was staring at her, and luckily the sight of Fusco's half chewed mouthful of hotdog snapped Reese out of his fog. "You should get back to work, detective."

He listened with a smirk at Fusco's accusing words that it really didn't sound like she was talking to her son. Carter shook her head and stormed away from both of them. Reese just smiled.