Chapter Text
Finch sat down opposite Reese, gratefully accepting the cup of tea that got pushed towards him. They really needed to find a new cafe, he thought as the waitress gave him a smile of recognition. They'd frequented this place too often lately. Reese gave him a look.
”Relax, Finch. No one will be able to trace us through our coffee-drinking habits. Or tea-drinking, in your case.” It was a bit annoying that his friend had gotten to know him so well. It made his 'enigmatic-eccentric'-role so much harder to keep up. ”What's up?”
”What do you think? We've got a new number, of course.” He slid a file over to Reese, who flipped it open and studied their new mark.
”He looks like Joe Regular.”
”Don't they all?” Finch sighed slightly. ”In fact he is a Joe, full name Joseph Blake. Thirty-three years old, single, owns his own modest apartment. Pays his mortgage on said apartment, no other outstanding debts. He teaches art at St. Mary's high school, where he also leads evening classes for anyone who's willing to pay the tuition fee. Both parents alive and well, a seemingly normal social life and no known enemies.”
Reese sighed and put the file away. ”In other words the machine's just as mysterious as always. We've got nothing to start with. We'll just have to take the long way around.” Finch gave a minute smile.
”Isn't that the story of our life, Mr. Reese?”
Reese nodded glumly. ”Yes it is. Does this mean I have to head over to the high school?”
”That seems like an appropriate place to start, yes. Don't scare any of the children.” Reese sighed again.
”They scare me, Finch. They're not children, they're adults trapped in kids' bodies. They know more about sex and booze than I do.”
Finch's smile widened. ”The booze I doubt, but the sex I can believe.” Reese tried to look hurt; it was hard to do when a grin threatened to break free any minute. Finch didn't even try to hide his glee at getting a jab in. He took a sip of his tea and sat back. Reese raised a brow at him.
”Shouldn't we get going?”
”There's no rush; Mr. Blake's still in class. And your class doesn't start until two o'clock.” Reese choked on his coffee, sputtering and coughing.
”My class?” Finch knew he looked entirely unapologetic. Just occasionally it was too hard to resist temptation and bait Reese. He was still waiting to see what he'd balk at. The moment he did Finch would come up with an alternative solution. He'd actually devised three different strategies to get close to Joe Blake, but none of the other had the same potential for entertainment. ”I'm teaching a class!?” His voice actually grew louder, which Finch knew happened rarely.
”Don't worry. I just took the liberty of hiring you as a temp for Phys Ed class. You'll have plenty of time to head back and change. I have everything set for you at the library.” Reese his his face in his hands and groaned.
* * *
Reese stared in horror at the clothes laid out before him. He could feel Finch smiling behind his back.
”Do I have to wear this? The jeans and the shirt, no problem. I can do casual. But a track suit!?” his voice rose an octave, close to cracking. Finch gave a small snort.
”I've seen you in yoga pants before. Really, it's not that bad.”
”They were yoga pants, because I'd been working out! But I don't want to be seen in public wearing this!” He glared at the offending clothes, wondering if he could make them disappear. Finch shook his head, no longer able to hide his smile.
”You cannot teach Phys Ed in a suit, Mr. Reese. You only have one class today. Hopefully we'll be able to resolve this matter quickly and you won't even have to go back tomorrow.” Reese found himself fervently praying it would work out that way as he reluctantly began stripping out of his suit. Finch cleared his throat pointedly. ”We do have a second room where you can change in private.” Reese, down to his boxers and undershirt, gave a shrug.
”It's not like you haven't seen me wearing less than this. Usually I'm covered in blood, but still.” He grabbed the jeans and pulled them on. As always they fit perfectly, if a little more snugly than the style he usually wore. He looked down on himself as he shrugged into the shirt and buttoned it about halfway. ”Do I look like a teacher?”
The annoying smirk was back on Finch's face. ”You certainly will have no trouble holding the female students' attention. Some of the male ones' too, I'm sure.” Reese leveled a glare at him as he fussed a bit with his clothes. He felt strangely under-dressed without his suit. Or maybe he was getting used to the sense of authority it usually brought him. He really could use that sense now; he wasn't equipped to deal with this.
”Yeah, because I really look forward to spending a day being ogled by kids I'm technically old enough to be father of. Nothing could be more fun.” Grabbing his duffel he tossed down the sweat, together with a gym towel, running shoes, a bowie knife, a folding knife and his Glock. Finch raised an eyebrow; he looked at him defensively. ”What? Rule number one is never to enter enemy encampments unarmed.”
”They're high school students, Mr. Reese.”
”Yeah well, just because you can run circles around them with your logic and wits doesn't mean I have to resort to that tactic. I'm more of a hands-on guy.” He accepted the folder Finch handed him.
”Your credentials.”
Reese looked it over and his eyes widened in surprise. ”Noah Wilson? You're using one of the aliases I've created?” That was unprecedented; Finch usually preferred his own creations. The smaller man gave a shrug.
”He seemed like a likeable fellow, your Mr. Wilson, and you seemed comfortable with him. You've created him to be a reasonably average person, so he seemed like a good choice.” Honestly Reese was grateful to have Noah as his cover. He'd played that part often enough, and normal enough, that he'd feel comfortable in his own skin. He didn't doubt that he'd need it; he wasn't joking when he said schools made him uncomfortable. With a sigh he hefted his bag and slung it over his shoulder, grabbing his helmet on the way out.
”Are you sure it's a good idea to take the motorcycle?”
”This whole op's insane, I might as well get some fun out of it,” Reese tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the stairs. He spent the time on his bike getting into Noah's head space, pulling on the role like one of his suits. He wished he could have just slipped into the teachers' lounge, pretending to be a lost parent, and just blue-jack Blake's phone. It would have been a lot easier. He could almost hear Finch's voice in his head, telling him it wouldn't let them get to know the number. He mused on Joseph Blake, wondering if he was mark or perp. He'd made assumptions so many times, proving the old adage about assuming to be true. As he parked his bike a block from the high school his gut gave a nervous roll. He wasn't kidding when he said kids scared him. His interaction with them up to date had been okay, but they left him out of his depth. He squared his shoulders and grabbed his duffel, making sure his bike was as safe as it could be. If any punk stole it he'd be able to use the tracker and hunt him down anyway.
* * *
The high school was well maintained, if still a bit run down. He automatically memorized all the escape routes as he made his way to the principal's office. Trudging through the halls made him feel uncomfortably similar to a rat in a maze, and he was aware of curious stares following his every move. He was used to the anonymity of the city and the level of scrutiny made him tense, on edge. Trying to dispel some of the discomfort with a deep breath, he gave a sharp rap on the door, which opened shortly. The woman in front of him might be attractive if she'd been less severe. The suit she wore was an unflattering cut and Reese thought that Finch's input might work wonders for her.
”How can I help you?” Her voice had a nasal twang that grated in his ears and her stare was a little bit too invasive. He tried not to clench his jaw as he extended his hand, forcing a smile onto his lips.
”I'm Noah Wilson, the Phys Ed temp. I'm told you were expecting me?” Her face relaxed and warmed slightly and Reese relaxed minutely.
”I'm sorry, Mr. Wilson. Things have been a bit chaotic here recently. I'm Susan Anderson. Have a seat while I look over your references.” He obediently sat down, thinking this was the first time he'd ever been to the principal's in his life. Anderson looked his papers over, making noncommittal noises under her breath. Finally she looked up at him. ”Everything seems to be in order. Let me show you to the teachers' lounge.” He stood up and followed her into the maze again.
”Mr. Reese, are you in position?” Hearing Finch's voice was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. It brought him back to his world and helped him focus on the task at hand.
”On my way to meet the other teachers,” he murmured softly. ”I'm escorted by the principal. Keep your fingers crossed that Blake's there, so we can get a speedy wrap on this. Tell me you've gotten something on our number.”
”I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. So far I'm drawing a blank. But I'll keep digging. Talk to the other teachers, find out if there are any disgruntled parents or colleagues.”
”Will do, Finch. Talk to you later.” He terminated the call just as Anderson opened the lounge door. Only a handful of people were inside and Reese uncoiled a little bit more. He immediately saw Blake and sent a small prayer of thanks to higher powers.
”Ladies and gentlemen, this is Noah Wilson. He'll be subbing for Carl. Joseph, would you mind showing Mr. Wilson his changing room and the gym hall?” Blake got to his feet, hand extended. Reese accepted the proffered hand and shook it firmly. He noted that the photograph Finch had found didn't do the guy justice. He looked younger than his thirty-three years, slim and fit. His hair was a nondescript brown, and his brown eyes sparkled with curiosity.
”Hey, call me Joe.”
”Noah.” He followed the other man. ”So, have you been teaching here for long?” Blake glanced over his shoulder, making sure Reese was keeping up with him.
”About five years now. It's a good place, less disruptive than a lot of other schools in the city. Sure, some of the kids are thugs and dealers, but not everyone's a bad apple. And Susan's good at curbing the troublemakers.” Reese nodded, noting the respect in the other man's voice. Discreetly he pulled his phone out, forcing it to pair with Blake's. Step one was accomplished, at least.
”What's your subject?”
”Art.” He gave a self-deprecating grin. ”I'm the hippie of the place.” Reese answered his smile.
”Does that make me the jock?” Blake gave a laugh.
”It might, depending on your favorite sports. You don't strike me as the football-type.”
Reese smiled again, a bit surprised to find himself unwinding. The guy had social skills, no doubt about it. ”I prefer either basketball or baseball.”
”Then you're no real jock,” Blake said with a grin. ”Here's your office-slash-locker room. You might want to change right away; I'll show you the gym hall afterward.” To Reese's surprise he stayed, casually leaning against the door frame. Reese gave a mental shrug and began changing. As he tugged his undershirt off Blake gave a whistle. ”Whoa man, those are some serious scars. You've been in the service?”
”I've updated your records, Mr. Reese,” came Finch's voice over the earwig. ”You were infantry, served in Iraq and Afghanistan. I hadn't expected you to have company when changing.” His voice was teasing and Reese had to bite his lip to keep from making a rude noise.
”Yeah, two tours. It gave me enough action to last me a lifetime; I figured it was time to do something safer.” Blake snorted, his eyes roaming over Reese's chest. The guy wasn't exactly discreet in checking him out, but he might be able to work with that.
”So you chose to work as a temp teaching high school kids? Yeah, because that's really safe,” Blake drawled. Reese actually laughed. He was warming to the guy. ”Come on, your class starts in five.” He followed Blake. Finch's voice sounded in his ear:
”He seems to have taken a shine to you, Mr. Reese. Well done.” Reese didn't deign to answer that. Instead he stopped in front of the door Blake indicated. The younger man slapped his shoulder.
”Once more into the breach, huh? Good luck, my friend.” Reese cautiously opened the door and stepped into the hall. The first thing he heard was ”Oh. My. God!” squealed by feminine voices in a pitch that might shatter glass, or make his ears bleed. He resisted the impulse to hide his face in his hands. Instead he boldly stepped into the lion's den.