New old news, I'm still hooked with Person of Interest and can't seem to do anything that doesn't involve PoI at any shape or form. The only bad thing is that I have been very bad at keep track of all the amazing PoI fics around here, I hope to get around to read at least some of them soon. So yeah, this a 'Baby Blue' related fic, set immediately after the scene where Finch and Carter meet at the store, when Finch tells her they have Leila. I know, I know I'm pretty behind but, what can I say? I'm a bit slow at writing. Besides, I've been toying with a few others plot bunnies. PoI related, of course :P

Please, be aware I'm not a native speaker, and while the amazing PJTL156 was kind enough to beta for me, I still could have missed some of them, so feel free to point them out, I would really appreciate :)

I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.

OoOoO

Title: The Brief Taste Of Happiness.

"... You have to feed her four or five times a day and you need to give her formula. Oh, and more importantly, you have to change her diaper frequently. You don't want a baby with a diaper rash on your hands, trust me. You should check her every few hours or so." Carter continued giving Finch instructions as they walked away from the store where they had met.

She turned her head toward the little man walking alongside her. "Do you or John even know how to change a diaper?"

Finch stopped in his tracks, turning his upper body to face her.

"This is not the first time I've taken care of a baby, Detective."

Carter arched an eyebrow. "What? You mean this isn't the first time you've kidnapped a baby?"

Finch gave her a blank look, lips pursed.

"Goodbye, Detective." The billionaire said shortly before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" Carter called after him, efficiently stopping him and giving her the time she needed to close the distance between them.

Carter stopped in front of him, looking into his eyes. "If you have any problems or need help with her just call me, okay?"

Finch nodded shortly. He could hear the concern in her voice. "I will, Detective."

Carter watched as the man limped away slowly. Shaking her head, she turned around and walked back to her car. She had an interview to do at St. Raymond's clinic, apparently. And, with those two less than ideal men taking care of the baby, the sooner they fixed this, the better.

Finch limped toward the library's door, holding a bag full of baby items in each hand.

This was the last thing he ever expected when he got Leila Smith's number this morning. And that alone was quite telling, considering he had been taught a long time ago by his machine that anything and everything was possible. Even so, having a six-month-old baby currently residing in his library was ... more than unexpected.

Looking at both sides of the street, he put the bags on the floor to free his hands and open the door. He bent down with a grimace to pick them up and stepped inside, awkwardly closing the door with his shoulder.

Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Finch pondered the idea of calling Mr. Reese and asking him to come down and help him with the bags. Carrying a six-month-old baby repeatedly over the last few hours hadn't done any favors to back and neck and he was starting to resent it. But just as quick as the thought had come he brushed it off. He was not about to start acting like an invalid. As long as he could keep going he would do it. He could handle the pain.

He climbed the stairs slower than usual, his breath and heart rate accelerating quickly. As he finally reached the room they used as their base of operations he took a moment to catch his breath as he looked around, finding no sign of Mr. Reese and Leila.

Stepping further inside, Finch placed the bags on one of the desks. He held back the impulse of call out to Mr. Reese in case Leila was sleeping somewhere.

The improvised playpen he built with some random books was empty and the old tie he had given Leila after seeing her fascination with the one he was wearing wasn't there either.

Lips pressed into a tight line, his eyes scanned his surroundings. Finch told himself not to worry. If something bad had happened surely Mr. Reese would have contacted him. He pulled out his phone and confirmed there were no missing calls.

They had to be here in the library. Somewhere.

Without wasting more time, Finch started looking for them.

First, he looked into the small room they used as an infirmary, where all kinds of medical supplies were kept as well as a simple hospital bed. He had set it up after the incident with Theresa Whitaker when she had sliced Mr. Reese's hand with a knife. After that, he moved to the many large rooms filled with shelves and all kinds of different books, though he doubted he would find them there.

After checking the bathroom, the place where Reese kept his ... well, arsenal, and even a large room he used as storage (filled with old computer equipment and some more books) he still couldn't find them.

With his leg hurting more with each step he took, Finch was ready to give up and simply go to his computer and track the GPS from Mr. Reese's cell phone like he should have done from the beginning. He had even started to walk toward the room when he remembered there was a place he hadn't checked yet.

Considering he used to stay overnight in the library quite often, and spend the whole day in here sometimes as well, he had fixed up one of the rooms in the back just a few months before he found Mr. Reese.

The room had been painted with a light green color, and inside a comfortable bed had been placed along with a modest closet filled with clothes and a few other simple furniture pieces.

He had been discreet about it and was certain Mr. Reese had never seen him anywhere near the room, but it would be naïve to think the man hadn't already scrutinized every corner of the library on the times he had been here alone.

As he limped through the hallway leading to the room, he noticed the door wasn't closed-as it should be-but rather slightly ajar. It seemed he was right, Finch thought, pursing his lips.

Pushing the door open, he froze in his tracks, mouth dropping slightly open at the sight before him.

Mr. Reese was lying in the bed. Finch's bed. The billionaire allowed himself only a second to linger on the unfortunate detail that Mr. Reese had chosen to keep his shoes on while using the bed. The man sounded asleep as he lay still, the only movement the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and his arms protectively surrounding Leila's small frame as she slept atop his chest.

Finch blinked a few times, too startled to move just yet.

Still watching the scene before him, he noticed something red in Leila's hand. Frowning immediately, Finch limped closer, careful to avoid making any noise. He felt the corner of his lips curl up as he noticed Leila had fallen asleep with the maroon tie he had given her gripped between her little fingers.

Without thinking, he reached out and stroked Leila's hair tenderly.

Standing there, Finch couldn't stop his eyes from wandering toward the sleeping man's face. It was astonishing how different he looked while sleeping. How peaceful. The sharp lines on the corner of his mouth and eyes, as distinctive of him as his piercing gaze were nowhere to be found. With the relaxed expression, he even looked younger.

"You ever crave a more conventional life, Finch?"

Mr. Reese's words echoed inside Finch's head as he looked at the way John was holding Leila's small body tightly between his arms.

The voice had sounded distant; nostalgic and even with a touch of sorrow. Mr. Reese- John did crave a normal life. A family. And yet, he knew he would never have one. Whether it was due to the life he led, the fact he was legally dead or perhaps as a way to punish himself thinking he didn't deserve even a glimpse of happiness after everything he had done. It was no secret Mr. Reese thought himself a monster who deserved nothing but misery and sorrow.

Finch paused, eyebrows knitted together behind his glasses. For John, this single stolen movement was the nearest thing to the life that he craved so much. This moment, holding in his arms a kidnapped baby in a dusty, old library that supposedly did not exist.

He averted his gaze, a sour taste filling his mouth at the sudden dark revelation. He himself had never longed for a child, or a family in the more conventional sense, for that matter. But then, Will had been born and Nathan had named him as his godfather, giving him the child Harold never thought he would have. Finch felt his lips curl up. It was amazing how, in despite all the doubts and reserves he had at the beginning, he wouldn't change having Will in his life for anything.

After a moment, feeling a faint blush beginning to creep up his neck, Finch realized he was looking back at the sleeping man and forced himself to look away. For someone who claimed to be a very private person, he wasn't being very respectful of Mr. Reese's privacy at the moment.

Looking anywhere but the bed, Finch's eyes came to rest on the bedside table. Right on the edge and within an arm's reach were Mr. Reese's gun and cell phone. Easy to reach in case he needed them, Finch thought dryly.

And it was exactly that sight and thought that shook Finch off his almost dazed state.

They still didn't know why the machine had given them Leila's number, who wanted to harm her or worse, nor the reason behind it. They should be working to try and figure out things out instead of doing ... this. Whatever it was.

Finch looked back at Mr. Reese. He should wake him up. Let him know he was back and just go back to work, but- Finch hesitated. The truth was, there was nothing the man could do right now. There was no one he could track or keep surveillance on. At least not until Detective Carter called with information, or the people from the clinic responded to the threat he had sent them for the anonymous donor's tax ID number.

He sighed softly, and after a moment began to walk back the way he had come from.

Stopping at the doorway, Finch turned his upper body toward the pair, allowing the corners of his lips to curl up slightly into a small, sad smile before leaving.

He could give Mr. Reese a moment longer to enjoy this. It was the least he could do.

OoOoO

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read it. I hope you all have enjoyed, and as always feedback is appreciated. Thank you.