POI fic: Homeward Bound
TITLE: POI fic - Homeward Bound
AUTHOR: whomii2
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Harold takes an injured John to his family home
Finch POV
He had hoped to never be in this situation again, although given their activities it was probably a vain hope. He winced as he sped over a bump in the road and glanced at his partner, worried what the jostling would do to his ribs, and hoping that the seat belt would keep pressure on the bandage over the stab wound in his side. His eyes then went to his rear view mirror to check on the status of their pursuers. He had been lucky to get John away, as the odds had been too great even for someone with Reese’s undeniable skills. But the getaway hadn’t been unobserved and the others were doggedly following their frantic flight. While Harold had some contingencies for John being injured, none of them included fending off an attack. He couldn’t even seek out Carter or Fusco, as they would be unlikely to hold off the gang if John had failed. So Finch had fallen back on his last resort, seeking sanctuary in the same place he had after Nathan’s loss--amongst his family.
His mother had remarried when Harold was still young, although even at that age he was already different: a shy genius with poor social skills. While his father’s family hadn’t quite known what to do with him, his new family embraced him with open arms. A group of oddities, they easily fit his own oddness into their mix. Harold had been accepted as himself as he had been few times since; even Nathan had at times encouraged Harold to bend himself to be a little more sociable. His step family, exuberant as they were, would never ask anyone to change to more easily fit in. And while their play could at times be rather rough and seemingly cruel, Harold knew that they were fierce in defense of their own. But his love of technology and computers had finally lured Harold away, as his new family tended to have little time for such pursuits.
At last he saw the old house where he had spent much of his childhood coming into view, and he was glad when the iron gates swung open to welcome him in. John would be alright, they would see to that. And woe betide those who threatened them.
Reese POV
He came awake slowly, looking around the dimly lit room and trying to place his surroundings. The pain from his many injuries was blunted but his mind was still sharp - he would have to find out what Harold had given him that didn’t produce the usual fuzziness of most painkillers. Remembering their dire situation, he glanced around worriedly. He relaxed his tense muscles when he spotted Harold slouched in a chair by his bed, a large book folded open in his lap. He smiled inwardly and cleared his throat to wake Finch up, surmising that their situation must have improved if Finch was unconcerned enough to let sleep overtake him. Finch snorted awake, carefully placing his book on the bedside table and wincing as he straightened into his usual stiff posture. He leaned toward John, looking him over critically before softly asking “Water?”
“Yes, please.” John happily swallowed the cool liquid from the glass Harold held to his lips, and refrained from protesting when Finch fussed and fluffed the pillows behind him. He knew it was Harold’s way of letting off tension. Settling back against his plumped up pillows and still not able to make out much in the darkened room, John asked “Where are we?” and was surprised when Finch replied “Home, John. Well, my home. .Although it has been many years since I have been here.”
“But Finch, your family…”
“Are certainly able to deal with the situation.” As if to punctuate this comment, John was alarmed to hear dull screams and the sound of gunfire from outside. He moved to get up, but in his current state was easily pushed back against his pillows.
“Don’t worry, John”
“But our attackers?”
“Are getting what they deserve” Finch grinned a toothy smile as he murmured
"sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc”
Grandmama POV
She was rarely called upon for healing potions. Still, a little change and a little challenge were good from time to time. Young Harold was good at providing her that. He had been a somewhat sickly child, and she had been forced to be creative in trying to find something that would suit his picky palate. He was such a finicky eater. But he was also the one who most appreciated her skills. Her more boisterous kin might know all the deadly poisons, but they didn’t have the patience for the more time-consuming spells and potions. They tended toward the immediate gratification of destruction, whereas creation took more time. Time, and care, and the careful layering of one effort over another. While the other Addamses naturally attracted attention, Harold preferred the shadows, a quiet observer of his more flamboyant adopted family. Harold also loved to watch her create her spells and potions, fascinated by how the various components interacted to yield the desired result. With his meticulous nature he would have made a fine sorcerer or alchemist, if his desires hadn’t led him to other pursuits. Just look at what he had created - a golem of captured lightning, to gather knowledge and divine the future. He was a great wizard in his chosen field, and she was proud of what he had accomplished.
Gangmember POV
This should be easy. The guy in a suit had been impressive, but in the end had been overwhelmed by their numbers. Given the damage he had taken, it should be a simple matter to subdue him now. And the cripple who had whisked him out from under their noses would hardly present much of a challenge. More like a bit of fun to toy with after. Still, an injured and cornered animal is always more dangerous, which is why they had waited to gather the full strength of the gang to arrive when their quarry had finally gone to ground. The old house seemed abandoned, its ample grounds unkempt and overgrown. It seemed secluded enough that no one would interrupt their fun. Each of the gang members filed through the metal gates one by one, fanning out to encircle the house and prevent their prey from escaping. Taking his designated position he approached slowly, crouched down and expecting possible gunfire. Hearing a rustle in the tall grass he turned, only to see the member nearest him go down with a soft whump. Brandishing his gun but seeing no target, he looked around wildly only to see more of his compatriots falling to the ground. And then the screaming began. Unnerved, he ran back toward the gates which had at some point swung shut, firing wildly and cursing the enemy he couldn’t see but which seemed to be taking out his gang. The gates remained immovable under his frantic pulling, and the thought occurred to him that they were not so much for keeping people out as locking people in. He heard a sound behind him and turned….
*[We gladly feast on those who would subdue us]
AUTHOR: whomii2
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: Harold takes an injured John to his family home
Finch POV
He had hoped to never be in this situation again, although given their activities it was probably a vain hope. He winced as he sped over a bump in the road and glanced at his partner, worried what the jostling would do to his ribs, and hoping that the seat belt would keep pressure on the bandage over the stab wound in his side. His eyes then went to his rear view mirror to check on the status of their pursuers. He had been lucky to get John away, as the odds had been too great even for someone with Reese’s undeniable skills. But the getaway hadn’t been unobserved and the others were doggedly following their frantic flight. While Harold had some contingencies for John being injured, none of them included fending off an attack. He couldn’t even seek out Carter or Fusco, as they would be unlikely to hold off the gang if John had failed. So Finch had fallen back on his last resort, seeking sanctuary in the same place he had after Nathan’s loss--amongst his family.
His mother had remarried when Harold was still young, although even at that age he was already different: a shy genius with poor social skills. While his father’s family hadn’t quite known what to do with him, his new family embraced him with open arms. A group of oddities, they easily fit his own oddness into their mix. Harold had been accepted as himself as he had been few times since; even Nathan had at times encouraged Harold to bend himself to be a little more sociable. His step family, exuberant as they were, would never ask anyone to change to more easily fit in. And while their play could at times be rather rough and seemingly cruel, Harold knew that they were fierce in defense of their own. But his love of technology and computers had finally lured Harold away, as his new family tended to have little time for such pursuits.
At last he saw the old house where he had spent much of his childhood coming into view, and he was glad when the iron gates swung open to welcome him in. John would be alright, they would see to that. And woe betide those who threatened them.
Reese POV
He came awake slowly, looking around the dimly lit room and trying to place his surroundings. The pain from his many injuries was blunted but his mind was still sharp - he would have to find out what Harold had given him that didn’t produce the usual fuzziness of most painkillers. Remembering their dire situation, he glanced around worriedly. He relaxed his tense muscles when he spotted Harold slouched in a chair by his bed, a large book folded open in his lap. He smiled inwardly and cleared his throat to wake Finch up, surmising that their situation must have improved if Finch was unconcerned enough to let sleep overtake him. Finch snorted awake, carefully placing his book on the bedside table and wincing as he straightened into his usual stiff posture. He leaned toward John, looking him over critically before softly asking “Water?”
“Yes, please.” John happily swallowed the cool liquid from the glass Harold held to his lips, and refrained from protesting when Finch fussed and fluffed the pillows behind him. He knew it was Harold’s way of letting off tension. Settling back against his plumped up pillows and still not able to make out much in the darkened room, John asked “Where are we?” and was surprised when Finch replied “Home, John. Well, my home. .Although it has been many years since I have been here.”
“But Finch, your family…”
“Are certainly able to deal with the situation.” As if to punctuate this comment, John was alarmed to hear dull screams and the sound of gunfire from outside. He moved to get up, but in his current state was easily pushed back against his pillows.
“Don’t worry, John”
“But our attackers?”
“Are getting what they deserve” Finch grinned a toothy smile as he murmured
"sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc”
Grandmama POV
She was rarely called upon for healing potions. Still, a little change and a little challenge were good from time to time. Young Harold was good at providing her that. He had been a somewhat sickly child, and she had been forced to be creative in trying to find something that would suit his picky palate. He was such a finicky eater. But he was also the one who most appreciated her skills. Her more boisterous kin might know all the deadly poisons, but they didn’t have the patience for the more time-consuming spells and potions. They tended toward the immediate gratification of destruction, whereas creation took more time. Time, and care, and the careful layering of one effort over another. While the other Addamses naturally attracted attention, Harold preferred the shadows, a quiet observer of his more flamboyant adopted family. Harold also loved to watch her create her spells and potions, fascinated by how the various components interacted to yield the desired result. With his meticulous nature he would have made a fine sorcerer or alchemist, if his desires hadn’t led him to other pursuits. Just look at what he had created - a golem of captured lightning, to gather knowledge and divine the future. He was a great wizard in his chosen field, and she was proud of what he had accomplished.
Gangmember POV
This should be easy. The guy in a suit had been impressive, but in the end had been overwhelmed by their numbers. Given the damage he had taken, it should be a simple matter to subdue him now. And the cripple who had whisked him out from under their noses would hardly present much of a challenge. More like a bit of fun to toy with after. Still, an injured and cornered animal is always more dangerous, which is why they had waited to gather the full strength of the gang to arrive when their quarry had finally gone to ground. The old house seemed abandoned, its ample grounds unkempt and overgrown. It seemed secluded enough that no one would interrupt their fun. Each of the gang members filed through the metal gates one by one, fanning out to encircle the house and prevent their prey from escaping. Taking his designated position he approached slowly, crouched down and expecting possible gunfire. Hearing a rustle in the tall grass he turned, only to see the member nearest him go down with a soft whump. Brandishing his gun but seeing no target, he looked around wildly only to see more of his compatriots falling to the ground. And then the screaming began. Unnerved, he ran back toward the gates which had at some point swung shut, firing wildly and cursing the enemy he couldn’t see but which seemed to be taking out his gang. The gates remained immovable under his frantic pulling, and the thought occurred to him that they were not so much for keeping people out as locking people in. He heard a sound behind him and turned….
*[We gladly feast on those who would subdue us]