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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

"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.