When the Tide Rolls In

Chapter 1

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Harold Finch lay face down on the cold tile floor of the First Mercantile Bank and tried to calm the agitated dog alongside of him. Moments ago a fairly routine day had taken a disturbing turn, even by their standards…

Only nineteen, Martina Hawley had recently summoned the courage to leave her abusive boyfriend, who seemed like the obvious threat to her life. John had gone to talk to the man, and the seemingly benign job of trailing Ms. Hawley had fallen to Harold. And so he had followed her here, as she applied for the bank's low-interest student loan program. Martina was alone in the world, having lost both her parents in an accident the previous year, and Harold admired her determination to rebuild her life after so much tragedy.

He had been absorbed in these thoughts when four men in ski masks had nonchalantly strolled into the bank, firing machine guns into the air with deafening effect, and terrifying the customers and staff.

"Bear, stil. Afliggen."

Harold had managed to get the commands out before being shoved brusquely to the ground by one of the gunmen, whose distinguishing characteristic appeared to be a mass of straggly black hair hanging out from under his mask. Thankfully Bear's training had held even in the face of this assault, though a low growl was emanating from the back of his throat, and every muscle quivered with tension, poised to attack. Harold continued now to soothe the Malinois. Bear was wearing his service vest and so far they appeared to be simply a man with his guide dog. It was the best cover they could have at this moment, while he continued to analyze the situation. Harold looked over as one of the thieves - a burly man with elaborately tattooed arms - addressed the frightened group huddled on the floor of the bank.

"Quiet everyone, and don't move. You don't want to be a hero today. Playing hero is only going to get you hurt."

The thief grabbed the bank manager by one arm and walked him at gunpoint to the vault in the back of the bank. Another member of the crew was skillfully disabling the surveillance feeds while the straggly-haired man kept watch at the door. The final gunman - a short, nervous fellow - was collecting all the cell phones. Harold prided himself on being a man with many contingencies, and this situation was no exception. He slid a useless burner phone across the floor. The robbery was proceeding efficiently and so far the customers were remaining calm. If everything continued to go smoothly, this all might be over soon.

Harold's attention was suddenly drawn to a furious conversation at the rear of the lobby. The tattooed man was cursing angrily, and the manager was trying to placate him in a composed - but clearly fearful - voice. He couldn't see the vault from his position at the far side of the room, but it appeared that whatever this group had been planning to steal was no longer there. And at the sound of approaching sirens Harold's hope of a safe resolution to their predicament quickly faded. They were all now officially hostages.

He slowly lifted his head from the floor and looked around, keeping one hand on Bear's back. He was in the furthest position from the thieves, who were distracted now and arguing among themselves. He took a chance and made the call, keeping his voice as low as possible.

"Mr. Reese?'

"What's wrong, Harold?"

There was a note of alarm in his partner's response. Apparently he had failed in his attempt to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

"We have a small complication. Ms. Hawley and I - and about a dozen others - are currently hostages at the First Mercantile Bank on Hudson Street."

"What? Talk to me, Finch. What's the situation?"

"Four men in ski masks with machine guns. Not very imaginative, I might point out."

He heard a low chuckle at the other end.

"At first I thought they were well-organized, but something's gone wrong now. Whatever they were looking for isn't here, and the police are arriving even as we speak. Things are getting a little tense."

"Hang in there. I'm on my way to you right now."

"John, please proceed carefully. Every branch of law enforcement will be outside. Try not to…draw attention to yourself."

"Do I ever, Harold?"

He allowed himself a small smile despite the circumstances, and felt some of his apprehension melt away at the sound of his partner's calm voice. The situation was still precarious, but with John on the way their chances for survival had just increased significantly. He looked around for Martina. The girl was sitting on the floor with the banker who had been assisting her. The women had their arms wrapped around each other and were watching the gunmen in fearful, stunned silence. Harold inched over to them.

"I'm sure this will all be over soon. The authorities are very skilled at handling this type of situation. We just need to remain calm."

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Harold eased himself on to one side and tried to stretch his bad leg. After an hour on the hard floor his entire body was getting stiff, and his earlier optimism was beginning to wane. At first the robbers had refused to even speak to the authorities outside as they examined every section of the bank, searching for another means of escape. The manager had been a calming influence throughout, accommodating the criminals as best he could, and so far no one had been hurt. There was a sudden flurry of activity in the front of the bank. Apparently the negotiations had finally begun. The tattooed man - his gun still trained on the bank manager - turned back to face the hostages.

"Listen up. We're letting one of you go."

The manager scanned the room, his eyes coming to rest on Harold and Bear.

"Him. Let him go, the man with the guide dog."

Harold saw an opportunity and jumped at it.

"No, really. I would much rather you release the young lady." He gestured towards Martina. "I insist on it, actually."

The robber nodded, and the girl looked back at Harold gratefully as she shakily got to her feet. All eyes were on Martina as she slowly made her way towards the door with her hands in the air. Harold stood up surreptitiously and walked a few steps to a private corner of the lobby.

"Mr. Reese, are you there?"

"Always, Harold."

He felt a small twinge at the softly-spoken, familiar words, and at the concern in his partner's voice. Just for a moment he closed his eyes against their unexpected impact.

"I'm right outside," John continued. "What's going on in there?"

"The thieves are releasing a hostage and I've arranged for it to be Martina. She's on her way out now."

Harold paused. He'd had plenty of time to analyze the situation and something had begun to trouble him greatly.

"John, this just isn't adding up. It seems unlikely that the Machine would have singled out Martina's number from that of the other hostages. This situation may just be an unfortunate coincidence. And if that's the case, the real threat to Ms. Hawley is still out there. The police will release Martina after they question her, John. She'll still need you to protect her.

Protect her, not me.

For a moment there was no response, but his partner's ambivalence was palpable through the dead air so Harold added as gently as he could,

"Stay with her, John."

"I get it, Harold."

The terse reply was fraught with the other man's conflicted emotions.

Harold surveyed the scene around him. The situation could explode at any time. The robbers were becoming increasingly desperate, and the jittery one had begun shouting and waving his gun erratically at the cowering hostages. Suddenly he pointed the gun at the ceiling and angrily shot out a skylight, showering the frightened people below with glass and eliciting another round of terrified screams.

"Finch!"

"I'm still here, Mr. Reese."

But clearly time was running out.

"Listen to me, please. I know I don't need to ask you to continue with our mission - I already know that you will. And if something happens to me, my people will find you. You will always be provided for, John. I've seen to everything."

"Stop, Harold. It's not going to come to that."

Harold paused before continuing quietly,

"I think that it might, and you need to start preparing yourself to go on without me."

John's silence on the other end was its own kind of misery for both of them. In a very real way, dying was the easy part - it was much harder being the one left behind. Their partnership made them central to each other's lives, and now Harold ached at the thought of his friend being left alone yet again. He even had the other man's dog with him, he realized bleakly.

There was so much more he wanted to say. In times of crisis, John always called to say goodbye, to in his own way acknowledge what this work and their relationship meant to him. But now that it was his turn, Harold struggled to find the words. How could he express, in their few remaining moments, his gratitude for the man's friendship and loyalty, and for his devotion to a dangerous cause that John had willingly embraced as his own.

In the end Harold simply used his partner's own words, knowing he would understand.

"And John, I've been happy too."

Suddenly there was a shout from one of the robbers.

"Over there! He's the one. I told you someone still had a phone."

Caught up in his conversation with John, Harold had inadvertently turned his back on the gunmen, his guard completely down. He gasped as he was grabbed from behind and a hood jammed roughly over his head. Before he could even react to the panic that arose from the sudden blackness, he cried out in pain as something hard was brought down across his hand and Bear's leash ripped away. The dog's ferocious barking was abruptly cut off mid-snarl and Harold wanted to call out to him, but the butt of a gun came down on his head and he slipped to the floor unconscious.

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A/N: Of course "I've been happy, too" is a reference to John's comment in "Shadow Box." And I do know that not everyone enjoys a cliffhanger - sorry! - but if you hang in there with me I promise to have the next chapter up in a day or two. I appreciate every review and comment, so please feel free to let me know what you think. Thanks so much for reading my story!