Title: Human Nature

Author: wildwordwomyn

Word Count: 436

Fandom/Pairing: Person of Interest fanfic starring John Reese/Harold Finch

Rating: R for angst (and when I say angst I mean angst with a capital A)

Author's Notes: My mind goes to dark places sometimes. I figured John could relate.

Disclaimers/Warnings: No spoilers. Just my own imagination at play so read at your own risk...

Summary: Not every John Reese fact can be found in his file.

There are things Finch doesn't know. Things like his heart racing every time he hears a gun cock. Caressing the trigger for a second before firing. Not feeling remorse whenever he shoots someone in the kneecap. Worse, every great once in a while who he used to be will creep up to fill him with a disturbing anticipation after a death occurs.

It's all about conditioning.

Kara Stanton conditioned him well. Too well. Turning off the human side of him became second nature during a job. Find the target, take out the target. It was that easy. Only with Kara there were complications. For John killing was work. For her it was a pleasure. How the butt of her weapon felt in the palm of her hand, the coppery tang of spilled blood in the back of her throat, that last choked off breath. She enjoyed it no matter how often she claimed she did it for her country. A couple times she even took John while the target lay dying, her passion so heightened by the kill that she couldn't wait until they got back to their hotel. She did what she had to. That's what she would say. They were both doing what they had to. John saw her true face, however. She loved it, and she tried her best to convince him to love it too.

After dealing with the more violent numbers John finds himself fighting the urge to grind against Finch, to bend him over his computer monitors and drill deep into him. Fortunately the urge doesn't strike as much anymore. Besides, it never was about sex. Kara simply used it as reward for letting the darkness come out to play, as release. Once Finch speaks, asks about his well-being and patches up his wounds with gentle hands, he's reminded that what he once was no longer applies.

John will always be tainted. He's as sure of this as he is of anything. Of course, he also knows that with Finch by his side the darkness doesn't swallow him up anymore. Somewhere along the way the man reached in, turned the light back on and taught him how to see again. There's a hand there now, a voice guiding him home. A beacon and anchor when he tries to drift away. Maybe it's unfair. Hell, it is unfair. It's definitely more than he deserves, more than he ever hoped for.

This, though, is the kind of conditioning he's needed all along. For this he's willing to do anything and everything. Because this is love as its own reward, and it's enough.

The End