POI fic: A Pocket Full of Lye
Title: A Pocket Full of Lye
Rating: G
Source: Person of Interest
Characters: Sameen Shaw, John Reese, Harold Finch
Summary: Shaw digests that. “So, wait,” she says. “I’m not allowed to take shots to centre mass, but you’re allowed to dissolve people? That doesn’t seem fair.” (Early S3.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing from this but my own entertainment.
Word Count: 900
Reese is late for work, but he brings doughnuts. “Bit of a queue,” he says, which Shaw takes to mean he got caught up in one of his private stalking projects. She’s followed him following Carter and Fusco a couple of times and of course she knows he follows her too, although she hasn’t caught him at it more than once; he takes more care when he’s dealing with a fellow professional. He tosses a treat to Bear, who slavers shamelessly, then checks himself when he sees the photo taped to the library board. “Didn’t we already deal with this guy? Before we met you, Shaw. I handed him over to Lionel myself.”
“Should’ve just shot him,” Shaw says. Finch glares at her. “What?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Reese, he was acquitted yesterday,” Finch says. “It seems the jury was unpersuaded of his guilt. I haven’t yet been able to ascertain why Mr. Jackson’s number has come up now, but given his history the balance of probability would be that he’s our perpetrator. As you know, his criminal connections are extensive.”
“Uh huh,” Reese says. He’s still examining the photo on the board; he seems slightly distracted. “Shaw and I can run surveillance. Don’t you have an appointment to get to?”
Finch gives Reese a suspicious look. “Yes, actually,” he says, after a moment. “I’m sure if anything comes up you’ll let me know.”
*
In the car, Shaw grabs her third apple doughnut and says, “This guy killed a kid and her father in a hit-and-run?”
“Yep,” Reese says.
“Then put a hit on the kid’s mother to cover it up?”
“Yep,” Reese says. He’s bouncing a marshal’s star absently on the dashboard. It’s slightly dented; it looks real.
“Why can’t we just shoot him in the face?”
“Just a minute,” Reese says. He clicks his earwig. Shaw assumes he’s calling Finch, but then he says, “Hey Joss, you remember Terry Jackson? ... Yeah, we heard. Didn’t we get you a taped confession? ... Right, sure, I’ll try to bear that in mind. Thanks, Joss. You take care.” He clicks off. “She says coerced confessions are inadmissible as evidence.”
“And you should remember that next time?”
“And I should remember that next time.”
“So this guy’s not going to prison?”
“Nope,” Reese says.
“So we’re back to the shooting him in the face option?”
“Yep,” Reese says.
Shaw sits up. She hadn’t actually expected him to agree. “How?”
“Two ways,” Reese says. “First way takes longer. Marshal Jennings -” he flips his badge so it catches the light “- knows a guy at Torreón Penitentiary. We put Jackson in the trunk, pick up a brick of coke and take a road trip.”
“Where do we get the coke?”
“My place.” He shrugs off the look Shaw gives him. “Got tired of shaking down the cartel every time I needed to frame someone.”
“Right,” Shaw says. She’s not impressed, exactly, but it’s a level of cold-blooded competence she has to appreciate. She’d got the impression Finch’s operation was a lot more squeamish about this sort of thing.
She gives Reese another look. He’s definitely done this before. “What’s the second way?”
“I’ve got a ton of lye in a storage unit. Took it off a doctor before she could make the worst mistake of her life. It’s quicker and no one’s going to ask questions about why we went out of town for a week.”
Shaw digests that. “So, wait,” she says. “I’m not allowed to take shots to centre mass, but you’re allowed to dissolve people? That doesn’t seem fair.”
There’s a sudden, urgent noise over the comms. Shaw winces and jabs her finger in her ear, then holds her earwig a slightly less deafening inch away. It’s practically vibrating. “Mr. Reese!” Finch is saying. He sounds rather short of breath. “This is not how we do things! You’re setting a very bad example for Miss Shaw!”
Reese sighs. “Harold,” he says. “Are you spying on us?”
“I really don’t think that’s the important thing here, Mr. Reese!” Finch says. “You are not going to shoot Terry Jackson and dissolve his body in lye!”
“He’s a bad man, Harold,” Reese says, almost dreamily. “He’s done bad things. Someone should do something.”
“Certainly, Mr. Reese, but as you’re very well aware -”
“Sorry, Harold, can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Are you going through a restaurant? I hear the fish is good.”
He clicks his earwig off, then pulls his phone out and strips out the battery too. Shaw watches, curious. She’s still piecing together how this operation functions; not who pays and who hits people and who keeps the cops off their backs, that’s obvious, but how Finch’s little team actually fits together. Every time she goes on a job with Reese and Finch, she’s trusting her life to them. She has to know how they’ll react when things go sideways. She’s not sure if Reese directly disobeying Finch’s orders counts as ‘sideways’, although it’s certainly not what she would have predicted. It makes things more interesting, that’s for sure.
She says, “You do that often?”
“Actually, the last time I did that, I ended up in Rikers,” Reese says. “But if that happens again, I’m sure you can break me out.” He bounces Marshal Jennings’s star one final time, then sighs again and drops it back into his inside pocket. “Road trip?”
Rating: G
Source: Person of Interest
Characters: Sameen Shaw, John Reese, Harold Finch
Summary: Shaw digests that. “So, wait,” she says. “I’m not allowed to take shots to centre mass, but you’re allowed to dissolve people? That doesn’t seem fair.” (Early S3.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing from this but my own entertainment.
Word Count: 900
Reese is late for work, but he brings doughnuts. “Bit of a queue,” he says, which Shaw takes to mean he got caught up in one of his private stalking projects. She’s followed him following Carter and Fusco a couple of times and of course she knows he follows her too, although she hasn’t caught him at it more than once; he takes more care when he’s dealing with a fellow professional. He tosses a treat to Bear, who slavers shamelessly, then checks himself when he sees the photo taped to the library board. “Didn’t we already deal with this guy? Before we met you, Shaw. I handed him over to Lionel myself.”
“Should’ve just shot him,” Shaw says. Finch glares at her. “What?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Reese, he was acquitted yesterday,” Finch says. “It seems the jury was unpersuaded of his guilt. I haven’t yet been able to ascertain why Mr. Jackson’s number has come up now, but given his history the balance of probability would be that he’s our perpetrator. As you know, his criminal connections are extensive.”
“Uh huh,” Reese says. He’s still examining the photo on the board; he seems slightly distracted. “Shaw and I can run surveillance. Don’t you have an appointment to get to?”
Finch gives Reese a suspicious look. “Yes, actually,” he says, after a moment. “I’m sure if anything comes up you’ll let me know.”
*
In the car, Shaw grabs her third apple doughnut and says, “This guy killed a kid and her father in a hit-and-run?”
“Yep,” Reese says.
“Then put a hit on the kid’s mother to cover it up?”
“Yep,” Reese says. He’s bouncing a marshal’s star absently on the dashboard. It’s slightly dented; it looks real.
“Why can’t we just shoot him in the face?”
“Just a minute,” Reese says. He clicks his earwig. Shaw assumes he’s calling Finch, but then he says, “Hey Joss, you remember Terry Jackson? ... Yeah, we heard. Didn’t we get you a taped confession? ... Right, sure, I’ll try to bear that in mind. Thanks, Joss. You take care.” He clicks off. “She says coerced confessions are inadmissible as evidence.”
“And you should remember that next time?”
“And I should remember that next time.”
“So this guy’s not going to prison?”
“Nope,” Reese says.
“So we’re back to the shooting him in the face option?”
“Yep,” Reese says.
Shaw sits up. She hadn’t actually expected him to agree. “How?”
“Two ways,” Reese says. “First way takes longer. Marshal Jennings -” he flips his badge so it catches the light “- knows a guy at Torreón Penitentiary. We put Jackson in the trunk, pick up a brick of coke and take a road trip.”
“Where do we get the coke?”
“My place.” He shrugs off the look Shaw gives him. “Got tired of shaking down the cartel every time I needed to frame someone.”
“Right,” Shaw says. She’s not impressed, exactly, but it’s a level of cold-blooded competence she has to appreciate. She’d got the impression Finch’s operation was a lot more squeamish about this sort of thing.
She gives Reese another look. He’s definitely done this before. “What’s the second way?”
“I’ve got a ton of lye in a storage unit. Took it off a doctor before she could make the worst mistake of her life. It’s quicker and no one’s going to ask questions about why we went out of town for a week.”
Shaw digests that. “So, wait,” she says. “I’m not allowed to take shots to centre mass, but you’re allowed to dissolve people? That doesn’t seem fair.”
There’s a sudden, urgent noise over the comms. Shaw winces and jabs her finger in her ear, then holds her earwig a slightly less deafening inch away. It’s practically vibrating. “Mr. Reese!” Finch is saying. He sounds rather short of breath. “This is not how we do things! You’re setting a very bad example for Miss Shaw!”
Reese sighs. “Harold,” he says. “Are you spying on us?”
“I really don’t think that’s the important thing here, Mr. Reese!” Finch says. “You are not going to shoot Terry Jackson and dissolve his body in lye!”
“He’s a bad man, Harold,” Reese says, almost dreamily. “He’s done bad things. Someone should do something.”
“Certainly, Mr. Reese, but as you’re very well aware -”
“Sorry, Harold, can’t hear you. You’re breaking up. Are you going through a restaurant? I hear the fish is good.”
He clicks his earwig off, then pulls his phone out and strips out the battery too. Shaw watches, curious. She’s still piecing together how this operation functions; not who pays and who hits people and who keeps the cops off their backs, that’s obvious, but how Finch’s little team actually fits together. Every time she goes on a job with Reese and Finch, she’s trusting her life to them. She has to know how they’ll react when things go sideways. She’s not sure if Reese directly disobeying Finch’s orders counts as ‘sideways’, although it’s certainly not what she would have predicted. It makes things more interesting, that’s for sure.
She says, “You do that often?”
“Actually, the last time I did that, I ended up in Rikers,” Reese says. “But if that happens again, I’m sure you can break me out.” He bounces Marshal Jennings’s star one final time, then sighs again and drops it back into his inside pocket. “Road trip?”