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Damaged – Ch. 25

Reese hurt too much to sleep, but exhaustion dragged his eyelids down. He’d have preferred to keep them open, the darkness spawning images of stained mattresses, bloody metal spikes, and Mark standing there stroking his cock. He worked to keep his breathing slow and even, his limbs deliberately still. Finch needed to rest and he didn’t want to disturb him. It felt so good to hold him, to smell the sweat and soap at the back of his neck, to feel his heartbeat, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his skin. It was a gift he had never expected to get.

Finch shifted slightly and Reese forced his eyes open, watching the back of Finch’s head through lowered lashes. After a moment, Finch pushed back the comforter and slowly sat up, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting on the edge before pushing himself to his feet. Reese stared at the delightfully plump ass before him, a small smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as Finch bent over and picked up his boxers off the floor. As stiff as Finch was, it took quite a while, and Reese appreciated every moment of the show.

“Going somewhere?” Reese asked as Finch sat back down to put his shorts on. Finch jumped and almost dropped them again.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said, swiveling his body to look back at Reese.

“No, just resting my eyes,” Reese said, sliding his hand across the smooth sheet and brushing his fingertips against Finch’s leg. “At the risk of sounding needy, come back to bed.”

“I still need to make that call,” Finch said with a sigh.

“Is it that important?”

“It is if we don’t want to add the director of the CIA to our list of enemies.”

“Director Keane? What does he-”

“You can listen in on the call so I only have to explain it once,” Finch said, pulling on his shorts and limping over to the small table where his laptop and cell phone sat. He opened the laptop and picked up the cell, sinking into the hard plastic chair with a grunt of pain. Placing his wrists on the edge of the keyboard, his fingers hovered, poised to type, but something on the screen caused him to draw his hands back and let them fall into his lap.

“I need the girl’s number first,” he said, apparently talking to the computer. Reese arched an eyebrow as the screen changed, a second line of text appearing on the field of black. It was too far away for him to read, but it looked like a phone number. “Thank you,” Finch said, beginning to dial.

“When did you have time to upgrade to a voice-operated system?” Reese asked.

“I didn’t,” Finch said, a small frown drawing his brows together. “The system upgraded itself.” Before Reese could ask what that meant, Finch put the cell on speakerphone and dialed, the digital ring filling the room. Reese watched Finch watching the phone, his mouth drawn tight with worry.

“Hello?” a young woman answered.

“Heather Baker?”

“Yes? Who is this?”

“Mrs. Baker, I’m…Well, I need to ask you a few questions about your father.”

There was a long pause. “I’m sorry, my father is dead.”

Finch made a face. “No, he isn’t. He’s the director of the CIA…Julie.”

“Who the fuck is this?” she hissed, panic evident in her voice.

“Please, don’t get upset,” Finch said. “I do not mean any harm to you or your family. That’s why I’m calling. I recently had to…convince your father to help me with something and I’m afraid I had no choice but to offer up your whereabouts as incentive.” He looked conflicted, almost ashamed, casting a darting glance at Reese before looking back down at the phone. “I haven’t told him anything yet and if you tell me that you ran away because your father was abusive, that he hurt you-”

“My father is not a monster,” the girl snapped. “I was seventeen, I was stupid, and I was pregnant. I knew he’d be so disappointed in me and I was afraid he’d make me have an abortion, and instead of facing up to my choices, I ran away. I’ve wished…God, so many times I’ve wished that I could go back, I could explain, I could let my kids meet their grandparents, but I just don’t know what I’d say.”

“I would say just what you’ve said to me,” Finch said. “May I give him your number?”

“I…I don’t know. It’s been so long…”

“Julie, if I don’t tell him, he’s going to send the entire CIA after me. If he’d been a monster, if you were truly afraid of him, I wouldn’t have hesitated to take them all on to protect you, but since he’s not, I’d really prefer it if he wasn’t angry with me.”

“All right,” she said. “You can tell him.”

“Thank you.” Finch hung up, staring at the phone a moment before turning to face Reese. “I didn’t have any choice,” he said.

“So you used an innocent girl as a pawn to force Director Keane’s cooperation,” Reese summarized, his choice of words making Finch cringe. “Very well played, though to be honest, I didn’t think you had that sort of ruthlessness in you. I’m quite flattered.” He was only teasing, but Finch didn’t seem to appreciate it.

“Well, it wasn’t my idea,” he said.

Reese frowned. “Then whose idea was it?” Who else knew? Fusco? Carter? Zoe?

“It’s a long story,” Finch said, glancing at his laptop. “Let me deal with the director and then I’ll you tell you everything.”

Reese would have preferred to let the director wait, his own curiosity piqued. Who would Finch have turned to in a moment of crisis? Did he have another operative somewhere, someone he could turn to for advice? Reese wasn’t sure if the thought made him feel relieved, or jealous.

Finch was dialing again and Reese listened as it rang through.

“Where’s my daughter, you sonofabitch!” Director Keane answered. “If you hurt her-”

Finch hung up. “Well, that was unpleasant.”

“He thinks you have the girl.”

“So I gathered,” Finch replied with a grimace. “I suppose I may have given that impression.” He waited another minute, then called Keane back. “I do not have your daughter, Director,” he said forcefully before Keane could speak. “I apologize if that’s what you thought. I know where she is, but I would never do anything to harm her. In fact, I just spoke with her to make sure it was all right to give you her number.”

“You spoke to her?” Keane asked, his voice tight and raspy. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. She said she’s missed you.”

“Was she kidnapped?”

“No. She ran away. She got pregnant-”

“That bastard! I knew-”

“That ‘bastard’ is now your son-in-law and the father of both your grandchildren, and he works hard to take care of his family. They made an irresponsible choice and she was so upset about disappointing you that they ran away. She’s wanted to contact you, but she didn’t know what to say.”

“She wouldn’t have had to say anything. She’s my daughter.” It sounded like the man was crying. Reese supposed he couldn’t really blame him.

“Tell her that,” Finch said. “Do you have a pen?” He gave Keane the number. “Now, before I go, I need to ask about Agent Snow. Can we expect any more trouble?”

“No. John Reese is dead. Again. He is no longer the CIA’s concern.”

“Thank you,” Finch said, and reached for the phone to hang up.

“I hope you know what you’ve done,” Keane said. “Reese is the definition of a rogue agent. He’s dangerous, unpredictable, unstable. I have reports that he opened fire on a crowded city street and killed a janitor in an elementary school. He’s a ticking time bomb. Is that really the kind of man you want to associate with?”

Reese schooled his expression into a blank mask as Finch looked over at him. “I know exactly what kind of man he is, Director, and I wouldn’t want him any other way. Thank you for your help.” He ended the call and sat back in the chair with a sigh. “I’m glad that’s over with.”

“For someone who has difficulty with ‘human interaction’, you handled that quite well,” Reese said with a small smile. Finch’s lips quirked before flattening into a thin line as he braced one hand on the table to help push himself to his feet. He closed the laptop, picked up his cell, and limped back over to the bed, dropping the phone on the nightstand before sinking back down on the bed in front of Reese. “You forgot to take these off,” Reese said, tugging at the waistband of Finch’s boxers as Finch lay down.

“Now I remember why I don’t date younger men,” Finch said with a groan. “You’re insatiable.” He swatted at Reese’s hand, which was trying to creep into his boxers. “Stop that. We need to rest.”

“And you need to tell me who helped you come up with that rescue plan.”

“Not who,” Finch said. “What.”

“What?”

“Yes. It was the Machine.”

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6 Comments
  1. Awww… even just tying up loose ends, they’re so sweet together!

    Fave lines: “Reese stared at the delightfully plump ass before him… Reese appreciated every moment of the show”
    “Reese wasn’t sure if the thought made him feel relieved, or jealous.”
    “John Reese is dead. Again.” XD
    “Now I remember why I don’t date younger men” XD XD XD
    “He swatted at Reese’s hand, trying to creep into his boxers.”

    Couple of points:
    “It was a gift he never expected to get.” — “he had never expected”
    “He swatted at Reese’s hand, trying to creep into his boxers.” — “which was trying” otherwise it’s Finch trying to creep into his boxers

    Lovely, as always! Looking forward to their healing process and hopefully more smexxxy stuff!! 😉

  2. ‘“He thinks you have the girl.” “So I gathered.”‘ lols. XD lol, and Reese the man whore. XD Such a cute little chapter. It’s nice to have something less dark thrown in every once in a while. 🙂

  3. Janet permalink

    I’ve been enthralled by this story since it began.If it’s possible I think your writing is getting even better as you work your way through this. Really lovely work. Congratulations.

  4. deliacerrano permalink

    Excellent chapter. The end was sooo funny…”I know exactly what kind of man he is.” ” ..you forgot to take these off (his boxers)” and finally “…now I remember why I don’t date younger men”.
    Hysterical!!

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