primary_asset | (no subject)

Entry tags:

karen page

(no subject)

Though he and Finch had agreed it would be best to tell Karen the truth about who they are and what they do, though they had agreed having her on their team with her tenacity and her ability to dig up information would be an asset to everyone involved, though they'd agreed John would be the one to tell her, he's been putting it off.

As things are right now, when he's with Karen, it's easy to just be himself as much as is possible. There's no need to lie about his identity, not to the extent he has to with others. He isn't Detective Riley to Karen, he's allowed to simply be John Reese and while that may not be the name he'd been born with either, it's as close to a real identity as he's had in a very long time.

The moment he tells her the rest, that all changes. The moment she finds out about the Machine, he's afraid he'll become something else to her. A killer, most obviously. A special operative, which itself has plenty of negative connotations.

He's afraid, truthfully, to ruin that.

He's just as afraid of not telling the truth, however, and running the risk of her being hurt because of it. Finch has made it clear he knows John is habouring some feelings toward her, has even gone so far as suggesting he pursue her, but John is reluctant there, too. History has shown him what happens to the people he cares about. It's shown him what happens to assets who find themselves falling for one another. He'd lost Carter, he'd watched Root lose Shaw, he's seen first hand what losing Grace had done to Finch, and John just doesn't think he's prepared for that sort of loss. Not again.

He owes her the truth, though. That's what they've decided. So he calls her one afternoon, asks if she'll meet him, and finds himself nervously waiting for her outside the same diner he'd told her about Jessica and how he would have ended up dead if not for Finch. On the outside he looks as calm as ever, but inside he can't seem to find a moment of peace.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"He really is," he agrees. "And so are you, if it's something you want."

He hopes it's clear she doesn't need to do anything for them. If this isn't something she wants to do, neither of them are going to hold it against her and John certainly has no intention of no longer spending time with her if she's not part of the team. While he would very much like to deny it, Carter had opened up a part of him he'd kept closed off, and now John can no longer successfully lie to himself about what others mean to him. Karen is important, no matter what either of them do.

"Oh," he adds as an afterthought. "We unfortunately won't be able to pay you much. At least to start."

Karen can't help the laugh that bubbles out of her at that, one hand lifting in front of her to try to fend off any response, not wanting to give the wrong idea. After the way she was living in New York, that's been the least of her concerns here, especially with the money she gets every month. She might not understand or trust that, but it's been enough to find her footing while she figures out what she's going to do here, and she imagines that she'll still be able to take at least the occasional freelance job, which will help. Besides, if this is all going to be as covert as she's gotten the impression that it is, it will probably help for appearance's sake if she has another job she can cite when anyone asks.

"Trust me, that won't be a problem," she tells him, still smiling. "My last job — the one with the law firm — they were paying me next to nothing." They were making next to nothing, but she hadn't minded that, either. Somehow it meant more to be paid in baked goods and other food and promises of help from people in specific trades than if they were some high-earning firm, getting checks with multiple zeroes on the end from every client, probably selling their goddamn souls in the process. "It is. Something I want."

John smiles, somehow not terribly surprised to learn she hadn't been making much money in New York either. It isn't because he doesn't think she's capable or that he feels she's not deserving, not at all, but it's because what he's learned of Karen so far speaks to one thing: helping people is the most important part of anything she does.

For a moment he's reminded so fiercely of Carter that his chest aches and he has to look down under the guise of stirring coffee, certain his eyes might be a bit wet. All she had ever wanted was to do the right thing and it had gone so wrong for her so many times. She had been so smart, so good and now she was gone.

When he looks up again, though, he's still smiling and he says, "This is where the covers come in handy in more ways than one. It's nice being able to pay rent even when you're acting as a vigilante team trying to help people in need."

"So I guess that answers the question of whether or not I can still take freelancing projects when I've got time for it," Karen says, pleased — and maybe a little relieved — to hear that. She hadn't expected otherwise, but she's only got the first idea of what they're doing here, too, and she doesn't want to make too many assumptions. Given the kind of secrecy that's followed John since the day he got here, she wouldn't have been all that surprised if they had wanted her to drop off the radar instead. She thinks she would have done it, too. God knows it wouldn't be the first time she'd disappeared and started over. "It does tend to be pretty helpful, paying rent and bills and all that."

There's still the money from the city, too, which thus far has been more than enough for her to live off. Maybe it's because she'd gotten used to not having much, but the idea of getting paid little to nothing for something she really cares about doing doesn't bother her at all.

John nods and says, "Of course. You do what you need, we understand that. Having a regular job, too, it sometimes makes it easier to hide in plain sight. When we were on the run from Samaritan, just having the cover of Detective John Riley meant I could move through New York without being targeted as the Machine's primary asset."

And while things still hadn't been easy, they had been significantly safer than they might have otherwise been. He knows how lucky they all were that the Machine was able to create those covers for them. Being John Riley hadn't been easy -- it still isn't -- and he has no idea how Root skillfully shifted with such regularity.

"I don't think we're up against anything like that here," he adds suddenly. "No artificial super intelligent computers, not as far as I can tell, and I've looked."

"How do you even start to look for something like that?" Karen asks, somewhere between amused and in awe. For as strange as things were back in her world, and no matter how much she started to accept as normal, this is something else entirely, that she hasn't yet had a chance to get used to. She barely knows the first thing about it, this only the tip of the iceberg as far as questions she could ask go. For the moment, that only hasn't been a pressing concern because it's coming from John, someone she trusts so much. That's true no matter how much he hasn't told her.

She'd like to hope her being here now means the same goes for him.

"Sorry, I just — I can't say I have a lot of experience with artificial super intelligent computers."

"Cameras, bugs, any sort of surveillance equipment that doesn't seem like it serves a purpose beyond tracking ordinary citizens," he says. "Most cities have traffic cameras now, so I checked those out first, but they all appeared to be legitimate and didn't seem to be feeding into any organization that I can find beyond the Darrow government. Security cameras can be another source, but they also seem to be legitimate."

He pauses, wondering if she's actually interested in this, then decides she must be and carries on. Karen wouldn't have asked just to placate him. That doesn't seem like her at all.

"They tend to have agents working for them," he says. "I know it should be the other way around, the computer working for the people, and I suppose in a way they are, because it has to start with the people, but with Samaritan, the agents were doing that system's bidding. Following its orders. I think we would have seen them by now."

"I mean, you were pretty paranoid when you got here," Karen points out, her head tipping to the side, smile warm, teasing. "No offense. So, yeah, I think you probably would have found it by now." She still only just barely understands it, but it’s fascinating even so to listen to him talk about it, to imagine what having to worry about that on a regular basis must be like. Harrowing, sure — Hell’s Kitchen had its own share of dangers, but nothing quite like that — but interesting to hear about even so.

For so long, he told her so little about himself and where he came from. Now that that’s changing, it’s hard not to savor it.

"But that’s, you know. Good to know, with what we’re gonna be doing."

"It's a relief," he agrees and it's nice to be able to admit that. Finch feels the same, he's sure of that, but they don't discuss it much beyond agreeing Samaritan would have made itself known by now if it were here. There's no reason for a system like that to keep itself quiet, not in a place like Darrow. It could take over far easier here in a closed system and John doesn't know if he and Finch would be able to stop it. There's every chance Samaritan would win here and not having to worry about that, not having to wait until the moment their lives are threatened to that extent has been strange, but very welcome.

"We had to be so careful in New York," he continues. "There were days... periods when we had to stay completely off the grid. The Machine would give us alternate routes of travel, places where the streets had no cameras or where she knew the cameras would be turned in another direction at the right time for us to pass unnoticed."

Calling the Machine she is something he'd picked up from Root without even realizing it. John doesn't understand all the details, he doesn't know the science behind the Machine, but he knows Root and the Machine have a connection that's undeniable. It's difficult not to think of them as being the same.

It's really not funny, but Karen lets out a faint laugh anyway, smile still fixed in place. "You know, you're lucky I like you so much," she says, not stopping to give any thought to the words before they've left her mouth. "Because that seriously sounds like the plot of a science fiction movie." From anyone else, she'd probably hesitate to believe something so elaborate, that a computer system that intelligent could actually exist. Technology is capable of a hell of a lot these days, but that's another story. She trusts John, though, and knows he wouldn't be making up something like this. There would be no reason to.

Besides, while the machine in question may not have come here with him and Harold, she supposes the idea of it is something she should get used to if she's going to be working with them. She's seen far too much to hold on to that sort of skepticism, anyway.

"It's lucky you had that kind of help, though."

"You like me that much, do you?" he asks, thinking he probably shouldn't and entirely unable to help himself. Having a relationship isn't on the top of John's list of things to do and he's sure Karen has her own complications that mean she likely wouldn't want to be involved with him anyway, but he can't help but flirt. Especially with her. No matter what he tells himself, he does like her and it isn't strictly friendly, but he has to be careful. Getting her involved with what he and Finch are doing is one thing, but complicating matters with a potential relationship is something else entirely and that's where he has to draw the line.

He knows what happens to the people he cares for too much.

"When Harold told me, I didn't believe him," he says. "And for a long time I didn't trust the Machine either. All we were ever given were these numbers and nothing else, which was so frustrating at times, but the Machine was threatened at one point and we entered what another associate referred to as God Mode. The Machine spoke to me for the first time through my ear piece and I might have thought I was crazy if not for the fact that she told me where every last enemy agent was that night."

"I mean, you're okay," Karen says with a shrug, her smile suggesting something a little more than that. If not for his question, she'd wonder about how it sounds, if it gives the wrong impression or crosses some sort of line — they're friends, after all, and she doesn't want him to think that she's got any other ideas about what this is — but with his response, she doesn't think twice about it. She cares about him; of course she does. If anything, they way they met all but guaranteed that, and everything that's happened since has only added to it.

She listens carefully, her head propped up in one hand, her fascination apparent in her expression. It still sounds crazy, but crazy is normal now in the world she came from, and anyway, it sounds incredible, too, that something could have that kind of capability, that someone she knows could have made it. She's liked Harold when she's spoken to him, but there's obviously a lot that she hasn't been made aware of before now. "That's... amazing."

"It was an incredible experience. To have something like that speaking directly to you is unbelievable. I had an iPhone at the time and I thought that was the smartest computer I would ever see, but nothing compares to the Machine Finch created."

He's quiet for a moment and then he says, "For me it was only an hour, but we had another associate named Root and she found herself connected to the Machine long term. Willingly, of course, she wanted to have that connection and she... well, she always seemed a little nutty, but I don't think having the Machine in her head all the time helped."

It had been an incredible experience, he means that sincerely, and he knows how hearing the Machine in such a way would make someone a consistently better agent. But eventually it would be too much. Or it would have been for him.

"No, I can't imagine it would," Karen says, brow raising along with a corner of her mouth. All of this is more than a little strange, but that in particular — hearing the voice of something with that kind of knowledge all the time — is impossible to try to envision. She's heard about plenty of weird shit, but that's something else entirely, maybe especially for the fact that it was voluntary. "So... again, just to be clear, there are no god mode talking computers this time, right? We're doing things the old fashioned way?"

It's not like it would change her mind if Harold rebuilt the Machine; from what she can gather, it was nothing short of incredible. Still, it's nice to have the details of what she's getting herself into here.

"No Machine," he confirms with a nod. "I've no doubt Harold will find some other method of getting the information he needs, but there's no Machine." Whether or not Finch will be able to build one is another thing entirely. He's brilliant and John knows if he had the resources, he'd be able to build another Machine, but he doesn't have the funding he had in New York.

More than that, they simply don't have the numbers. The population of Darrow just isn't as big as what they're used to. In terms of pulling numbers, they just won't see as many. That doesn't mean there won't be people who need their help, but they'll have to find them by other means.

"If the old fashioned way means helping Harold hack things illegally, then yes," he says with a smile. "The old fashioned way."

Karen can't help but smile a little at that, just barely biting back a laugh. Part of her can't help but wonder what Matt and Foggy would have to say about that — nothing good, probably, when it involves the word illegally — but she's never been as hung up on things like that as they are. If it accomplishes something good, and, obviously, that's the intention here, then it's worth it, sometimes even necessary. Following the rules doesn't always get a person anywhere. She knows that as well as anyone else.

"Then the old fashioned way it is," she says, maybe a little more cheerfully than the subject should call for. He makes it hard to help, though.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only