Hey again fellow irrelevants! This idea came to me the other day while I was working on another fic, (If there is anyone still waiting, I am working on a multi-chapter fic post-season finale, inspired by my one-shot Small Glow in the Dark. I already have the first two chapters finished, and I'm still working on it, so, look out for it soon.) Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little one-shot, as much as I did :)
Please, remember that while the wonderful Marylska was kind enough read through it, there could remain some mistakes, all my own of course, so feel free to point them out, I would really appreciate.
I don't owe Person of Interest or any of its characters.
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Title: Breath of Life.
Slowly, Finch limped toward the lone bench along the river, under the Queensboro Bridge.
Hands buried deep into his coat pockets, Finch sat down slowly. It was then that he let out the breath he didn't know he had been holding.
23 days. It was exactly 23 days today since John found and rescued him from Root's clutches on that rainy and cold day. He didn't remember much of it, and he still wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.
Even so, the memory lapse wasn't surprising; between the drugs she had given him and his poor condition, but he remembered with sharp clarity the cold. That awful cold that made his whole body shiver, and the raindrops softly hitting his face.
"It's okay, Harold. I got you."
"I- I'm cold."
Finch's eyes flew open, his fists clenched so tightly in his pockets that his nails had started cutting through the skin of his palms. He shivered. Everything was still too real. Too fresh. The nightmares that plagued his dreams were proof enough of it.
Almost every night he woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and shaking uncontrollably, his mind filled with images so vivid and frightening that he wasn't even certain if such events had truly transpired or if it was just a product of his dark imagination.
It was worse when he was awake. Much worse.
The thought that Root was out there somewhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again was always at the back of his mind, even though John assured him he 'took care of her'. He had not asked him how, but he believed him. He trusted him.
The rational part of his mind could understand it; knew everything was over, but the irrational part was waiting for her to appear out of the shadows; waiting for her to trap him when he least expected it and finish what she started.
It was almost maddening how in the few occasions he left the library or the safe house where John took him, he saw her among the crowd of people, just standing there. Smiling. It made him want to run; go hide somewhere, but John's strong and secure presence at his side stopped him. He reminded him that what he was seeing wasn't real.
John, who barely left his side from the moment he brought him back. John, who hadn't pushed him to talk about what happened, but wordlessly let him know he would be there when he was ready to open up. John, who tried to act as normal as he could around him, knowing he needed at least a touch of normality back in his life.
Finch felt the corner of his lips curl up slightly. Just today, John was reluctant to allow him to leave the library alone. He was rather stubborn about it, but a pointed gaze and a firm but gentle 'Mr. Reese' let him know loud and clear that the matter wasn't up for discussion, and here he was, outside alone for the first time since the whole ordeal with Root ended.
He had not planned to come here, the notion had not crossed his mind, he just climbed into his car and just- started driving. His head filled with troublesome thoughts, the next thing he knew he was stopping here.
Finch lifted his gaze, looking at the tall buildings across the river. The peaceful water and the green grass under his feet. The place was quiet, as usual, and with no one around, as far as he could tell. The perfect place to get away from everything and relax, but also a dangerous place. It was hidden and away from people; the perfect place for an assault.
It took Finch everything he had not to stand up and get out of there. He drew a deep breath, touching his thumb and index finger against his forehead.
It was at that moment that he felt it. The distinctive weight of a gaze on his back. Someone was watching him, and not just anyone.
Feeling the tightness in his shoulders relax almost immediately and his frown vanished, Finch reached into his pocket for his cell phone, dialing the familiar number.
"Hello, Finch. Everything okay with your little trip?" John's smooth and low voice sounded in Finch's ear.
"Would you care to join me, Mr. Reese? I don't see a reason for you to stay in the shadows." Finch answered smoothly, letting a touch of amusement slip into his voice.
He heard what sounded suspiciously like a muffled soft laugh at the other end before Reese's voice came back.
"You're the boss, Mr. Finch," John replied dryly, ending the communication.
Cradling the phone between his hands, Finch drew a deep breath, holding it in for a moment.
He was not fine. He was far from being fine, but he was starting to heal. Slowly. Painstakingly slow. He wasn't naïve enough to think everything would be solved easily or that his life could ever be back to what it was before, after everything he went through that was just not possible, but he hoped things would get better, eventually.
One thing he was certain of was that, for the first time in his whole life he was not alone, and he tentatively, almost frighteningly so was relying on John now, even against his better judgment.
Feeling the breeze gently blowing across his face, Finch smiled.
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A/N: Thanks to everyone who read it. I hope you all have enjoyed, and as always feedback is appreciated :D