Disclaimer: see Chapter 1

Author's note:

Initially, I had ended this story with Chapter 4. With my desire to whump John Reese around sufficiently satisfied (for now), I figured the poor fellas had suffered enough. But I was asked to write a scene where John would meet up with one or both Detectives. I chose Fusco, because scenes between John and Lionel are just so much fun to write.

This site refused to sent me any notifications yesterday, so for all of you who left me all those positive reviews, I'd like to thank you, you guys are awesome! I hope you'll enjoy this last chapter as much as you did the previous ones.

Epilogue

Detective Lionel Fusco was leaning against a wall at the entrance of a narrow alley across the street of a small café. The weather had finally decided that its gloomy days were over and the sidewalks were buzzing with people enjoying the first real warm sun-rays of the year, prompting the first enterprising café owners to set up tables and chairs outside.

Although, the temperatures hadn't reached t-shirt levels yet, the idea had paid off. From what Fusco had seen since he'd taken up his post across the street, the half a dozen tables had constantly been occupied, keeping the attractive young waitress, who Mr. Vocabulary had asked Fusco to keep an eye on while Mr. Sunshine was 'recuperating', busy.

Lionel yawned. He hadn't slept well the night before, as the adrenalin rush of the day's events had left him in a nervous jitter. Though, he'd never admit it out loud, but those minutes of fighting for Mr. Happy's life had really gotten to him. And Finch looking slightly accusing at him as he stated that besides a slight concussion his fun loving friend had also suffered two broken ribs hadn't helped, either.

Lionel refused to feel guilty about that, but still, the memory of the sound of bones breaking shooting through his mind every time he'd been finally close to sleep last night was the main reason why he felt like he could fall asleep right where he was, standing up.

Shaking his head to clear his mind he tried stifling another yawn that could have had the potential of dislodging his jaw from his cheekbones.

"Hello, Lionel." A soft, raspy voice whispered right behind his left ear.

Startled, Fusco visibly jerked, yelping an ungraceful "Jesus!" and immediately cursed Wonderboy's knack for stealthy approaches. Where the hell had he come from? The alley was a cul-de-sac with no exits. Lionel had checked it out, before.

He turned around and resisted the urge to step back as he found his personal space crowded by Mr. Well-Adjusted, who looked slightly amused. Or about to rip his head off. But figuring that the thought of ripping someone's head off would probably be highly entertaining to Mr. Dark, Tall and Trigger-Happy, Lionel was putting his money on 'amused'.

Reese's lips twitched into an half-sided smirk. "I'm sorry to disappoint, but it's just me."

"What are you doing here?" Fusco blurted out before his brain had a chance to censor his mouth.

The smirk vanished off of Reese's face, brows minutely drawing together to form a frown. "Please, Lionel", he murmured, inflicting his voice with his customary dry, yet menacing tone, "contain your excitement."

"I'm sorry", Fusco mumbled, throwing a glance over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the waitress busing tables, before turning back to Reese. "Just surprised to see ya. Glasses said you'd be out of commission for a couple of days."

"Yeah, well", John sighed, finally taking a step back, "Finch has been known to having been wrong before."

At that, Fusco's suspicion rose that the walking dictionary probably had no idea that his muscle was up and about, skulking through the streets of New York. "Lemme guess, he thinks you're resting?" It wasn't really a question.

Fusco had never thought that John Reese could pull of looking innocent, because, somehow, there was always a hint of deadly menace surrounding the guy - at least when he was talking to the Detective - but this time, he came pretty damn close.

"You do know that he's probably listening in right now, right?" Lionel asked with a hint of exasperation.

Both brows inched upwards, perfecting the look of innocence on John's face. "He just said to get some rest ... He never specified where."

"Uh-hu." Fusco drawled the syllables out, deciding that he was definitely going to stay out of it.

He was saved from awkwardly changing the topic, as Reese looked around him, across the street, checking out the café and its patron, inquiring, "Anything interesting come up, yet?"

Fusco followed his gaze. "Nah, nothing worth mentioning."

Reese kept staring over Fusco's shoulder across the street, letting his trained eyes roam over the sidewalk. After, at least, 30 very uncomfortable seconds of having Wonderboy looming behind him without saying a word, Fusco spun around, intend on finding out what exactly Reese was doing watching him stalk their newest past time project.

Apparently, Reese had closed the distance between them again to better observe the street without Fusco having taken notice, his question dying on his lips as he bumped into the taller man's chest with his shoulder. Usually, Fusco would have just gotten more irritated, but was thrown off by the painful hiss and the arm that shot up to be protectively placed around aching ribs.

"Jeez, Lionel. You've already broken two of them." Reese rasped accusingly, slightly bend over. "Aren't you satisfied?"

Yeah, while saving your life, you ungrateful little prick. Luckily, this time Lionel's brain managed to stop his initial thoughts to be formed by his mouth. Instead he opted for a biting "Yeah, well, it was either that or giving you", he used his fingers to form quotation marks in the air between them, " 'The Kiss of Life'." Reese shot him a dark look, which Lionel ignored. "And I guess we both agree that Carter is far more suited for the job, wouldn't you say?"

Reese's look darkened just a shade more, his arm dropping from his ribs as he straightened to his entire intimidating 6' 2''. But instead of the snarky and/or threatening comeback Fusco had expected would follow his statement, Reese moved his gaze past the Detective, adopting his unreadable mask.

Squinting his eyes, Fusco took a closer look at the other man. He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he detected that Reese's cheeks had taken on a little bit more color. Fusco wouldn't go as far as calling it a blush, but he was pretty sure, that, for once, he had managed to make Mr. Fearless uncomfortable.

Smirking to himself, Fusco also redirected his attention back across the street, still basking in his moment.

"Thank you, by the way." Reese said softly, without turning to look at the Detective standing now beside him.

Still smirking, Fusco slightly inclined his head in acknowledgment. "You're welcome."

They stood in silence once more, although this time - and he might also have only been imagining things - it almost felt comfortable to Fusco.

"Lionel?"

Fusco turned to his left, looking expectantly at Reese's profile.

"You do realize that your mark just disappeared down the street into the direction of the subway station, don't you?" Reese stated calmly, as if he were commenting on something mundane happening across the street.

Whipping his head around in time to see the blonde pony tail of the young waitress disappear around the nearest street corner, Fusco cursed under his breath and started to go after her. After a few steps, he turned around to see that Reese hadn't moved an inch. Spreading his arms in a 'what-the-hell'-gesture he yelled "You coming?"

With a smirk, that to Fusco daringly bordered on cheeky, Reese parked his hands in his coat pockets, and leaned leisurely against the wall. "I'm resting, remember?"

- Fin -