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comment_fic's Person of Interest, Reese/Finch, of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels I have a feeling canon is going to royally Joss this fic, but what the heck, I'm writing it for the fun of it.
Days Reese had been driving -- snatching various nondescript cars from state to state: a grey Saturn in Connecticut, a gold Sebring in Massachusetts, a white Taurus in Vermont -- and he'd started to lose track of the days and hours, crashing in various equally nondescript hotels at night long to check in with the Machine and charge his phone and the laptop he'd lifted when he'd packed his arsenal and left the library. New York far behind him and the rest of the country before him.
Turing was smart, whoever she was: given the course the Machine was giving him, she was heading for the Canadian border, where it could not reach, given the surveillance laws up there. Smart woman, admirably smart, but so smart she was likely to get sloppy. She'd made the mistake of passing through a casino in Connecticut, a place riddled with cameras. Finch had made sure to stay in sight and the Machine, via facial and voice recognition had honed in, locked on and called Reese's cellphone, giving him the coordinates.
But always she was one step ahead of him: by the time he got to the town where the Machine had pinged them, she was on the run.
As Reese lay on the tangled sheets of the bed, watching the code scrolling on the screen, times and dates and coordinates and the odd snippet of video and audio popping up and playing, he clenched the bunched edge of the blanket in one fist, crushing it, wishing he crushed Turing's windpipe instead. Not enough to kill her, but enough to oxygen-starve her brain and leave her as a vegetable for however long she had left. He made it a policy not to harm women, if he could help it -- a promise he'd made after seeing women in his past harmed one time too many, promising to be the one putting the hurt on the ones who hurt others -- but she was the exception that defined the rule, the rare one deserving a fate worse than dying.
The red squares that the Machine framed around her head in the odd video clips made him think of a targeting particle on an automated system for a large weapon. He certainly had one at his disposal, a sentience that analyzed the data for him, providing him the tech support that Finch had been giving him these past several months.
Finch's voice, on the rare audio clips, sounded scared, but he held it together, as much as he could in the circumstances, but how long could that last before Turing Stockholmed him into complying? The man had a mind like a library and more wits about him than one would suspect looking at him, but he wasn't made of iron. Sooner or later, Turing would find a crack and weasel her way in.
He had to find them both before that happened. Had to find them in whatever posh hotel or cheap flophouse or shabby motel room where they had run to ground. The mental image of Finch shackled to a wall in an dingy warehouse crossed Reese's mind more times than he cared, but he took the anger that image caused and bundled it into his own resolve to track them down, to follow them to the ends of the earth if he had to. The path would end with two things: Finch rescued and Turing destroyed, whatever it took.
comment_fic's Person of Interest, Reese/Finch, of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels I have a feeling canon is going to royally Joss this fic, but what the heck, I'm writing it for the fun of it.Days Reese had been driving -- snatching various nondescript cars from state to state: a grey Saturn in Connecticut, a gold Sebring in Massachusetts, a white Taurus in Vermont -- and he'd started to lose track of the days and hours, crashing in various equally nondescript hotels at night long to check in with the Machine and charge his phone and the laptop he'd lifted when he'd packed his arsenal and left the library. New York far behind him and the rest of the country before him.
Turing was smart, whoever she was: given the course the Machine was giving him, she was heading for the Canadian border, where it could not reach, given the surveillance laws up there. Smart woman, admirably smart, but so smart she was likely to get sloppy. She'd made the mistake of passing through a casino in Connecticut, a place riddled with cameras. Finch had made sure to stay in sight and the Machine, via facial and voice recognition had honed in, locked on and called Reese's cellphone, giving him the coordinates.
But always she was one step ahead of him: by the time he got to the town where the Machine had pinged them, she was on the run.
As Reese lay on the tangled sheets of the bed, watching the code scrolling on the screen, times and dates and coordinates and the odd snippet of video and audio popping up and playing, he clenched the bunched edge of the blanket in one fist, crushing it, wishing he crushed Turing's windpipe instead. Not enough to kill her, but enough to oxygen-starve her brain and leave her as a vegetable for however long she had left. He made it a policy not to harm women, if he could help it -- a promise he'd made after seeing women in his past harmed one time too many, promising to be the one putting the hurt on the ones who hurt others -- but she was the exception that defined the rule, the rare one deserving a fate worse than dying.
The red squares that the Machine framed around her head in the odd video clips made him think of a targeting particle on an automated system for a large weapon. He certainly had one at his disposal, a sentience that analyzed the data for him, providing him the tech support that Finch had been giving him these past several months.
Finch's voice, on the rare audio clips, sounded scared, but he held it together, as much as he could in the circumstances, but how long could that last before Turing Stockholmed him into complying? The man had a mind like a library and more wits about him than one would suspect looking at him, but he wasn't made of iron. Sooner or later, Turing would find a crack and weasel her way in.
He had to find them both before that happened. Had to find them in whatever posh hotel or cheap flophouse or shabby motel room where they had run to ground. The mental image of Finch shackled to a wall in an dingy warehouse crossed Reese's mind more times than he cared, but he took the anger that image caused and bundled it into his own resolve to track them down, to follow them to the ends of the earth if he had to. The path would end with two things: Finch rescued and Turing destroyed, whatever it took.
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(no subject)
Date: 2012-10-17 01:41 pm (UTC)Even though the show went another direction with the kidnapping and rescue, the scenario gives us all so many delicious ways to imagine the possibilities. Thanks for sharing yours!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-10-17 10:53 pm (UTC)" a fate worse than dying"
Date: 2012-10-17 01:55 pm (UTC)Exactlywhat she deserves..
Re: " a fate worse than dying"
Date: 2012-10-17 11:02 pm (UTC)And yeah, I don't want to see Root outright killed: that would be too easy a punishment for her after what she's done and what she wants to do with the Machine. I believe I was thinking of the end of "Cura Te Ipsum" when I wrote this (ie. the one where Reese gives the rapist a chance to live, but we all know the guy is too scared to slide back into his evil ways, because he knows that the next time he sees Reese, he won't get a second second chance...)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-10-17 10:01 pm (UTC)Thanks for posting!!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-10-17 11:06 pm (UTC)