Chapter Text
21.3069° N, 157.8583° W . United Airlines flight 413 leaving from JFK in 4 hours 22 minutes.
“Ohh, that sounds tropical” Root quips to her friend and higher power. “Who are we meeting there?”
When The Machine declines to respond Root pouts for a second, but a twinkle remains her eye. “Alright, mystery lady, a surprise it is.”
The barista calls her name soon after to pick up her gingerbread latte, and she catches him giving her a bit of an odd look, but he doesn’t say anything. Root rarely gets more than a side eye in New York during her conversations with The Machine. Its casual acceptance of idiosyncrasies is one of her favorite things about the city. An affection for the crowded behemoth wells up in her momentarily, then she opens the café door and is hit in the face by an icy gust. By the time she has finished the 15 minute trek back to her apartment her toes are numb and she’s cursing the city’s name. The Machine pacifies her with weather reports in Honolulu (her apparent destination), and soon she’s smiling to herself again, as she tosses warm weather clothes into her favorite suitcase.
+++
“Our next number is a GPS coordinate.” Finch informs them. “The location is in Honolulu, Hawaii. I have taken the liberty of booking flights for all of us.” He doesn’t usually put all his eggs in one basket, but The Machine sent him the same coordinates 10 times in a row that morning. It seemed to be emphasizing the importance of this particular mission. And things had been unusually quiet recently in New York – it had been over a week since their last number. Perhaps it was too cold for homicide.
“What about my weapons?” The question comes from Ms. Shaw, of course.
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to bring any of your own on the plane, Ms. Shaw. They are… rather strict about that, but I am arranging to have some firearms available to you and Mr. Reese once you’ve arrived.” He purses his lips and averts his eyes from the glare she’s directing at him. “I am told… that they serve a fairly good steak in first class on this particular flight.” He chances a glance back to Ms. Shaw and is relieved to find her expression somewhat softened.
“I’ll give you both a chance to pack. We’ll need to meet at the United Airlines terminal in JFK in four hours.”
“Don’t forget your bathing suit, Finch. We’ll need to blend in.” Mr. Reese gives him that lazy smile as he turns to leave the subway, and Finch’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. A swimsuit? Where will he even find such a thing.
+++
“The department has decided to reward your outstanding conduct in disbanding HR by giving you both an all expenses paid trip to Honolulu.” Captain Moreno is technically smiling as she presents them both with their trip packages, but she also looks deeply incredulous. “Your flight leaves at 2:00 pm out of JFK, so you better get moving.”
Carter returns the incredulous look with equal intensity. “I have a bunch of paperwork to catch up on.”
“I’m told it can wait.” Moreno counters.
The two of them just look at each other in disbelief for a few seconds. Carter wants to say it was a bad time, but in all honesty, it was the best possible timing – Taylor is away on a school trip, she doesn’t have any new cases to work on, and hell if it isn’t cold as a bitch out there. Tentatively she reaches up towards the offered ticket as Fusco snatches his with undisguised glee.
“Can you believe this?” he says, grin still plastered on his face. “And my boy’s with his mom this week, perfect timing! Let’s get out of here before they change their minds, huh?” He’s already whipping his jacket on and pulling his cap over his ears by the time Carter gets up from her desk.
‘It is perfect timing.’ Carter thinks to herself as she pulls on her gloves. ‘Too perfect.’