Fic: Pretenders (April Fic Challenge)

[csi_sanders1129]

Title: Pretenders
Chapters: 1/1
Author:csi_sanders1129
Ratings: K+
Word Count: 998
Pairings/Characters: John Reese/Harold Finch, Dr. Campbell
Synopsis: In which Reese finds himself enduring another session with Dr. Campbell while Finch is away.
Comments: Written for my April Fic Challenge 2021, Prompt: Time. Established relationship. Set during 4x06 Pretenders. Pretty sure I started writing this around the time that aired and never finished it. Dug it out of an in progress folder for this challenge and cleaned it up a little. Still not super happy with it, but… Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!

John is trapped in Dr. Campell's office yet again, listening to the silence that's fallen between them and the quick scratch of pen on notepad as she scribbles down this and that about their non-conversation, the ticking of the clock as the minutes pass by. Eventually, she clears her throat, puts down the pen and starts talking again. "You and Detective Fusco seem to be getting along well enough," the psychiatrist observes, as though she's surprised he's managed the task, noting the reports the IA lackeys had provided her with when they'd been not so discreetly tailing him all over the city. "Do you have any relationships outside of work, though? Family, friends?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"Both."

She is unimpressed by his evasive answers, the glare tells him as much.

"I've got friends, some of them are like family," he starts, thinking of Shaw and Fusco, those he would trust, does trust, with his life on a regular basis, and of those who aren't quite so trustworthy, Root, Elias, the Machine itself, "I've got a boyfriend. He's family," Boyfriend doesn't sound right, though, and he's so used to having Harold's voice in his head that he's not entirely sure he imagines the incredulous, 'I beg your pardon?' and so he amends that with, "Partner, rather. We even have a dog."

Dr. Campbell seems genuinely surprised by this admission, which is impressive given her default state of stringent professionalism. Her eyes narrow just slightly. She thinks he's lying again. "Oh?"

"Yes, a Belgian Malinois. His name is Bear."

Again, she is not amused. "Your... partner, tell me about him."

"He's a university professor. Usually he's researching, but he's teaching philosophy this year - ethics is his specialty, you'll be pleased to know."

"I see the irony. Hopefully he has better luck getting through to you on that front than I'm having," she answers, unaware that Harold is the one who dragged him up from rock bottom, gave him a purpose and shaped the way he dealt with those involved. "Tell me, how long have you been together?"

John pretends he can't ramble off the number at will, like he doesn't know the months and days and hours since that first kiss in the desperate aftermath of a close call when a number went wrong, "We've known each other for more than three years now, but we only really got together about ten months ago."

"While you were undercover in Narcotics?" She challenges, consulting her notes once again in regards to his employment history with the department.

"I wasn't always undercover, doctor," he answers in turn, "I had someone to go home to between jobs."

"And I'm happy to hear that. How does Harold feel about your police work?"

"The separations were hard," John answers, honestly – he thinks of those few weeks after Samaritan went live were hell, trying to stay off the grid until they were all sure their new identities were secure and uncompromised, but unaware of how the others were faring. "There were some rough spots. But we got through it, came out of it stronger."

Dr. Campbell scribbles down some more notes, considers him carefully and challenges him again, "I'm having a hard time believing that you're involved with another man, Detective Riley."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"From what little you've actually told me in our previous sessions, you've never mentioned your personal life before. When Internal Affairs was investigating you, they never saw you with anyone, male or female. According to your file, you have zero emergency contacts. And, well, you just don't seem the type."

John is only partially faking his irritation at these criticisms. He pulls his phone out, flips to a picture he took just last week, of Harold sleeping soundly on the couch at John's place, with Bear curled up on a pile of half-graded papers on the floor beside him, and brandishes his evidence. "You can ask Detective Fusco if you need convincing. See, he had the bad timing to walk in on us once," John laughs at the memory, "he couldn't make eye contact with me for almost a week." Chances are, if she does ask Fusco, the detective would likely implode (and would certainly never out them without permission). "Even Harold's students have us figured out. Last I heard, they were taking bets as to the exact nature of our relationship. As for your other points of contention, Harold and I are both very private people. And, while the NYPD isn't supposed to have a problem with this sort of thing, we thought it would be safer to keep our relationship quiet just in case. Judging by your reaction, perhaps we were justified in our precautions."

"Not at all," she counters. "I don't have a problem with who you're involved with, I'm just... surprised, is all. That you're actually being this open with me today. Any particular reason for that?"

"He's been away, actually. Some conference in Hong Kong for the last week," he says, which is not a lie. He's eager for Finch to be back in New York, he doesn't like the other man being quite so far away, where he is well beyond the scope of John's protection. "So I was hoping we could maybe wrap this up a little early, his flight should be getting in shortly and I've got to get to the airport."

She is still not entirely convinced, John knows, but she closes her notepad and concedes to his request. "Certainly, Detective Riley," she says, in a tone that suggests they will definitely be talking about this in the future. "Do say hello to your partner for me."

"I'll do that," Reese assures her, perhaps a bit too eager to take his leave. Another glance at the clock tells him he's still got plenty of time to make it to the airport, but he's considering the merits of arranging dinner for the two of them first. "Until next time, then, Dr. Campbell."