Nothing is True. Everything is Connected.
Tag: <span>Sylum: Non-Canon</span>

Spring Fling 2016: Day 1 – March 27th




Title: Snowstorm

Rating: NC-17

Author: Bj Jones

Creative Consultant: Timothy Quinn

Summary: They were calling it a snowpocalypse

ADMIN NOTE:  This story has elements of Non-Canon due to the fact  Harold & John have changed their canon and storyline *glares at them*  –  This will at one point be re-edited and updated to fit it.  When it is we’ll make an announcement and link it to the Archive.  Meantime enjoy the story 🙂


They were calling it the ‘snowpocalypse’.

The news was telling everyone to baton down the hatches, stock up, and stay inside.

Reese tried not to roll his eyes at the drama of it all, but after spending two weeks in an actual full-on Siberian Winter, getting stuck in a small blizzard was nothing.

Of course, he figured he could well be the only person on the East Coast who thought that way.

Still, he made sure Carter and her son were both secure, along with Lionel and his boy.  Then he checked in on a few of the numbers they had helped over the years to make sure they were safe too.  And he dropped off extra supplies for Joan and the homeless population.

And if he stopped by Sammy and Veda’s, Leila’s grandparents, with food, clothes, water, and fuel for the generator, then he was just being neighborly.  He still couldn’t believe how big Leila was getting!  She would be entering Kindergarten soon.

Finch had already set up a college fund, and made sure she would be able to attend the best schools.  Sammy and Veda pretended they didn’t know about it.  It was cute, really.

He made a supply run, for himself and Harold, stocking up their hideaway with all the essentials – including food, water, extra wood for the fireplace, weapons and ammo, blankets, clothes, and extra blood.

Bear’s nest in the reading room, was well insulated and equipped to handle a few days of snow.  Reese added extra blankets, filled up the water and food dispenser, and double-checked to make sure the heat lamp was functioning.  He even had doggy piddle pads in the small bathroom on the first floor for him to use.

By the time the storm hit, the library had been well and truly bolted down, the generators were running smoothly, and everything was secure.

All he had left to do, was drag Harold away from the computers.

“Time to hibernate.”

“I’m just finishing this code.”

“Harold.”  John looked at his Mate and sighed.  “I’m pretty sure no one is going to be out in this snowstorm to perpetrate any crimes.”

“Mr. Reese.”  Finch gave him a sideways look before focusing back on the monitors.  “I’m taking the time to do some much needed diagnostics on the systems…”

“Harold.”  John moved closer to the power source for the main CPU unit.  “I told you four hours ago, I was locking up the library and securing the premises, and that I would expect you to finish up with what you were doing and shut down the systems.  The snow is starting to come heavier, and the reading room will get cold.  I’m not going to allow you to sit down here and work in this.”

“I only need a few more hours,” he continued typing.

“At what point did you think I was going to let you get away with that?”  John’s voice held no room for argument.

Reese knew very well, that Finch could sit and work for hours on end, not thinking about himself or his own physical needs.  After they had Mated, he could feel Harold’s exhaustion and pain from those sessions of intense focus, and he refused to let him continue doing such things too often, especially when they came at great detriment to his own heath.  John wasn’t stupid enough to break Harold’s concentration, especially while the man was coding, but whenever he began to feel exhaustion creep through their Bond, he would tell him it was time to stop, and then give him plenty of leeway to wrap up whatever project he was working on.

If Harold ignored him, he would simply turn off the power and finish it for him.

Harold didn’t take John’s threat seriously the first time.

Consequently, he’d wound up sitting there in stunned horror when the computers went dark in front of him.  Though John had stayed calm as Harold yelled, growled, threatened, and belittled him, he’s slept alone at his apartment for three days afterward.

Harold’s chair squeaked as he turned it and stared at his Mate.  “You wouldn’t!”

John continued to give him the ‘do not argue with me on this, you will lose’ look.

“Mr. Finch.”  His hand reached for the power strip.

“Fine!”  Harold glared at him before quickly finishing up what he was doing.  When he was satisfied, he began shutting down the systems.  “I am perfectly fine down here.  There is no reason for me to hide upstairs from a little snow.”

“Humor me.”  John moved behind him, laying a hand on his neck, rubbing it softly, feeling his Mate relax under his touch.  “I wouldn’t mind a few days of just you and me.  No numbers.  No Machine.  Just us.”

“Well, when you put it like that, Mr. Reese.”  Harold leaned into the gentle touch slightly.  “Is everything secure?”

“Yes.”  He bent down and kissed his Mate’s neck, letting his fangs drop just enough to slide across the skin, sending goose bumps along Harold’s spine.  “I even stocked up on supplies.”

“You were a most efficient Boy Scout weren’t you?”

“Well, you would know, Harold.”  He pulled his Mate out of the chair and into his arms.  “I have your favorite flannel pajamas.  I’ve stocked up on Sencha Green tea, plus extra sugar.  And your top 25 books are stacked by your side of the bed.”

Harold laid his head on John’s shoulder.  “You take good care of me.”

“When you let me.”  His hand settled on the base of Harold’s neck, holding him securely as he leaned down and took his mouth in a passionate kiss.

Even after what was nearly three years of being Mated, they still needed time adjusting to each other.  Many of their deep, dark secrets had come out, finally.  The worst one Harold had hidden so far down he could barely admit the truth of it even to himself, yet it came to light after the last confrontation with Root, when there seemed no further reason to keep anything unsaid anymore.

Reese still chuckled quite regularly at the image in his mind, of when Michael and Sam had shown up at the Library, loaded for war and ready to take on the world.  He was still, in so many ways, getting used to filtering through the Bond, the fierce rage and powerful sense of protection he felt for his Mate, and though he controlled it well enough for Harold to never really get much of the backlash, his poor Sire wasn’t as lucky.

Though that strong Sire and Childe Bond had come in handy when Larry made his last move against Michael, but that was something he didn’t want to think about.

He chose to still kept his apartment.  At times he simply needed to get away from Harold for some personal space.  That, and it had been a birthday gift from his Mate, one he would always cherish.  He also knew Harold had safe houses all over town, some John didn’t know about and hadn’t actually found yet.  As much as he needed to get away from Harold, he knew his reclusive Mate needed time away from him too.

It had only been six weeks into their being Mated, when John knew they needed their own home together.  One they either built, or found for themselves that was a blend of the two of them.  After six more weeks of useless searching, had come the sudden realization that the Library was in fact, their home already.  And with that, the idea for converting an apartment on the top floor was born.

It had been finished four months later with help from their friend, Trask, and over the past few years they’d ended up spending more of their time on the top floor of the Library, than in any of their other locations.  Gradually, the wardrobe was filling with suits, casual clothes, and even a Tuxedo or two.  The bathroom – that had been designed for Harold’s injuries – was stocked with both sets of toiletries for the pair of them.  The small living area was covered with books stacked in every corner, and at least two laptops.  The bed had gone from a Cal King to a custom made mattress for both Harold’s comfort and John’s height.  Bear even had a second dog bed over by the fireplace, for when he was invited upstairs.  John also kept a cache of weapons hidden in the bottom of the wardrobe, which Harold knew about, but pretended he didn’t.

Now, it would become their hideaway from the raging blizzard.

“Bear?” Harold asked with concern.

They both looked at the dog, who was curled under a few blankets, settled next to his heater.

Finch had conducted extensive research to find the right one, ensuring that it wouldn’t set the library on fire, yet still keep Bear warm while he slept in the reading room.

Keeping watch over their home.

“He’s fine,” John assured him.  “He has extra food and water.  I’ll make sure to check on him.”

“Well then, I guess we’re good.”

John took his hand and led him toward the elevator.  As he closed the gate, he looked over at Bear, giving him the command to stand down.  The dog huffed, then curled up and went back to sleep.

He was warm, secure and would be the first to alert them to intruders.

Once they reached the top floor, John held the gate open on the old elevator for Harold to step out, and then closed it behind them, ensuring it was locked it position.  Despite knowing that it would be immensely difficult for anyone to get into the Library, get past Bear, and then get up ten flights of stairs, he still made sure his Mate stayed behind him as they moved from the elevator to the front door of the apartment.

The entrance looked like a typical set of double doors, but both were heavily armored, and nothing short of a rocket launcher would break them down.  There was a keypad on the wall, but it was more for decoration, and even if someone got the passcode, which was changed at random intervals with a set of arbitrary numbers and letters, they weren’t getting past the watchful gaze of The Machine.

Harold entered when John was certain all was safe, and it gave his Mate a moment to close and lock the doors behind them.  The sound of the metal bolt sliding into place, always made him feel safer.  The large living room was already warm from the fire, showing Harold how much his Mate really had prepped everything for the weekend.

With a small smile he made his way to the bathroom, and began undressing.  He sat down on the chaise that took up one side of the space.  He had at first thought it cliché and tacky, until he realized John had gone out of his way to make sure it fitted him perfectly.  He could easily sit down and take off his shoes, slip them under the seat, then pull off his socks and toss them into the laundry bag that sat next to it.  The whole bathroom had been created for his comfort.  The walk in shower, designed for two, had bars for him to hold onto, and a bench to sit down.   The only thing that truly accommodated John over Harold was the taller shower head.  His added four inches past six foot, had always made it difficult for his Mate to find a shower he didn’t have to contort to get under.

Not that Harold didn’t mind John’s ability to contort into unique positions.  All he had to say, was that Yoga did his Mate a lot of good.

After his shoes and socks were off, he slipped off his suit coat and laid it across the end of the chaise.  Later he would put it into the dry cleaning bag.

Then he started working on his vest…

“Let me help you.”

John’s voice washed over him, sending shivers down his spine.  There was something about the low growl that permeated his words and went straight to places Harold could not control.

He dropped his arms and gave his Mate a soft smile.

Reese knelt in front of him and slowly unbuttoned the vest, gently stripping it off, laying it on top of the suit coat.  The cufflinks were removed next, and set in small glass dish on the table next to the chaise.  The shirt was laid beside the vest and coat, and the undershirt landed in the hamper.

John stood up, leaving Harold on the seat.  He took a few minutes to slip off his own jacket and toss it into the dry cleaning bag.  It was soon followed by his white cotton shirt.  He turned on the shower, making sure the temperature was just right, before slipping off his shoes and socks and leaving them kicked over by the door.

He ignored Harold’s eyerolling, and instead held out his hand, giving him the leverage he needed as he stood slowly up, grimacing at the stretch of his hip.

One eyebrow rose, a small smirk appearing on his face that had Harold glaring at him.

“Fine.  Yes.  You were right as always, Mr. Reese,” he grumbled, flinching at the stabbing pain down his leg.  He had to admit, though never out loud, that since his Mate had dragged him to see the uncouth Dr. House and forced him into doing stretches and exercises every morning, his hip wasn’t nearly as stiff as it had been.

Pants and boxers ended in a heap in the floor, as they made their way into the oversized shower.

Harold sighed in contentment at the warm water pulsating against his neck, back and hip.  And it had him moaning in pleasure as John gently rubbed his aching muscles, loosening them up in the heat.

He leaned back against his Mate’s strong chest, feeling safe and secure, while those large, calloused hands that could be so tender, yet so deadly, moved across his body with practiced ease.  It was a touch filled with the softest comfort as the wash cloth moved across his skin, but soon enough each caress became more sensual, pulling a very different moan from Harold’s lips.

John’s hand gripped his hardening cock, stroking with a firm, steady grip.  “Let go, Harold,” he murmured, his thumb moving over the swollen head, and sliding across the slit.  Harold moaned, thrusting into the tightening hold, seeking release.  “Come for me.”  It was the low growl again, that set him over the edge, spilling his seed all over John’s hand and his own stomach.  “You are so beautiful like this,” Reese assured him, nuzzling behind his right ear, enjoying the feel of his Mate’s release in his arms.

Harold stepped out of his embrace, turning and sitting down on the bench.  His needy gaze rested on John’s hard cock, jetting out of a nest of dark hair.  It made his brilliant blue eyes flash with silver as a demonstration of his desire, and reaching out, he took John’s hands, pulling him closer, loving how the bench was the perfect height for him to blow his Mate without straining his neck.

He was pretty sure that John had built it for that very reason.

He ran a hand up the thick shaft, stroking it softly, before following the same path with his tongue, tasting the saltiness that was essentially John.  Taking the head into his mouth, he sucked slowly, pulling a shuddering moan from his Mate, who leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands against the shower wall.

Harold smirked at the unfettered access John gave him.  It was a privilege he would never take for granted.

Sucking, biting and teasing, he kept the pressure building until John’s was shaking with need, and begging for release.  Putting his hands on his Mate’s thighs as he swallowed him down to the hilt, Harold relaxed enough to let John fuck his mouth.

It didn’t take long before he was shouting Harold’s name as he came down his throat.

Licking him clean, then licking his own lips as he sat back against the wall, Finch looked wickedly smug at the amazed expression he’d put on John’s face.  No one got to see that pure, unadulterated, blissful happiness but him.  And he would do anything to keep it close to his heart.

John grinned down at his Mate.  “Smug bastard.”

Harold wiggled his eyebrows cheekily, and it won him a rich laugh as his Mate pulled him up off the seat and proceeded to wash them both down.

When that was done, John turned off the shower, got them both dry and helped Harold into his favorite flannel pajamas.  It was cold enough for even John to pull on sleep pants and a t-shirt, though he preferred to sleep nude.

They spent a few hours by the fireplace, drinking tea and reading quietly, listening to the storm pick up speed and dump increasing amounts of snow onto the city.  There was some concern about the scaffolding that hid the lower floors of the Library from public view, but there was little could be done unless it fell, and in the end, John figured it would be best to just leave it alone.

As the night grew colder, he got Harold settled into bed, turning up the heat on the mattress pad.  Before he himself could lie down though, he took a quick moment to put on a coat and a pair of actual fuzzy slippers, before running down the stairs to check on Bear, who seemed content under his own messy ball of blankets.  His area was cooler, and the reading room cold, but nothing was freezing.

With one last security check, John made his way back up to the apartment, hung his coat on the hooks by the doors, took off his slippers, and slid into bed with a grateful sigh.

“Mr. Reese!”

John chuckled as he kept his icy hands on the nice warm skin at his Mate’s waist.  “I’m cold, Harold.”

“That…”  He huffed as he settled against the solid body of his Mate, letting his bad hip rest on the strength of John’s unmoving protection.  “Well, just don’t do it again.”

“G’night, Harold.”  He kissed the back of his neck and pulled him tight against him.

“Goodnight, John.”


The howl startled him awake.

John moved quickly and efficiently.

He was out of bed, gun in hand, moving towards the door even before the second howl came wafting up the elevator shaft at them.

“John?”  Harold sat up blinking at the terrifying noise, shivering when it hit him just how cold it had gotten.

“It’s Bear.”  Reese moved across the room, hearing the next howl come closer.  He was ready to pull the door open, when he heard the faint sound of scratching.

“Is he okay?”  Finch reached for his glasses.

John opened the door to see their dog sitting with a blankie in his mouth, looking all pathetic.  “Get in here,” he ordered, his gaze roaming over the immediate area, and his Vampire senses stretching outward to ensure there were no intruders lurking in the vast, darkened building.  “And drop the blanket.  God alone knows what you dragged it through on the stairs.”  The Library wasn’t the cleanest building in some places, and there were sporadic rat invasions that he fought off from time to time.  With a sigh, he commanded the dog over to his bed by the fireplace, and proceeded to add extra logs, stoking it back to a nicely roaring blaze.  “Okay, so what’s the catch, buddy?”

Bear whined, holding out his paw to Reese, who cringed when he felt how cold it was.  Kneeling down, he checked each paw for injury, and then ran his hands over the dog to warm him up.  “He’s freezing, Harold.”

“Ah, Bear!”  Finch wormed his way out of bed, putting his feet into warm slippers and making his way across to the dog.  “Did we lose power?  Is this the start of an attack?”

“No.  There’s nothing to be afraid of.”  John looked around to see the few soft night lights they’d left on, were still flickering properly.  “I’ll go check.  Grab some extra blankets and get him warm.”

Harold snagged two thick fleeces from the cupboard, and wrapped them around Bear, settling him in his bed by the fireplace.  After a few moments, he began to warm up, eyes drooping as he pushed his nose against his Master’s hand.

Harold smiled, gave him pets, then found the treats bag and snuck him a chewy liver nugget before John got back.

Bear was quite contented by the time Reese returned.

“What’s happened downstairs?  Is everything alright?”

John slipped off his coat, shivering slightly.  “Heater went out, that’s all.  It’s freezing down there now.  I tossed a few blankets over the computers just to make sure.  And checked the windows to the reading room.  It’s all secure.  Just really, really cold.  The scaffolding is groaning a bit but holding.”

“That was a brand new heater!  I shall be calling them in the morning!”  Harold used one of the chairs to steady himself as he stood up.  “I will be demanding a refund, an apology, and a whole new heater.  How dare they endanger Bear!”

John leaned over and kissed his forehead.  “Let’s fight one storm at a time.”  He pushed Harold toward the bed, then reached down and gave the dog a quick pat.  “Back under the covers.  Right now.”

Harold huffed, still upset over the heater.  He climbed back into the warmth, fluffing the pillows and blankets, sighing with growing satisfaction until there were cold hands on his…


John chuckled softly, pulling him closer.  “Just warming my hands here, Harold.”

“Do I look like a hot water bottle?”


Finch grumbled but didn’t move away.  There was nowhere more comfortable than being curled up with his Mate, even when the man had hands like he’d been throwing snowballs.

Finally though, they managed to settle down, easily falling back to sleep.

John jerked awake when he felt a cold nose on his feet.

Sitting up, making sure not to disturb Harold, he found Bear at the foot of the bed, looking pathetic and forlorn.


The dog whined softly.

“Oh, you are so working it.  Get your blanket.  You can take the end of the bed.”

Bear yipped softly, ran back and grabbed the thickest blanket off the doggie bed, then jumped up onto the big bed, turning around and around until he was wound tightly into a ball, secure under the blanket.

“You’re spoiling him,” Harold muttered sleepily.

“It’s a blizzard, Finch.”

Moving his own blankets, he turned slightly and stared at his Mate for a moment, before curling as close as he could get to John’s body.  “Go back to sleep.”

The blackout curtains at the windows, kept light from spilling out of their cozy apartment, but also kept the daylight from coming in.  The two of them had worked hard to make sure no one thought the Library was being used, let alone lived in, but it had its limitations occasionally.

Still, it wasn’t the fact dawn had come, nor was it John’s internal clock that got him out of bed.  It was a kick and a shove that had him flailing, and falling on the floor.  Harold startled awake, scrambling for his glasses and struggling to discover what the commotion was about.

John blinked up from the rug, to see Harold and Bear staring down at him, side by side.  Somehow in the middle of the night the dog had gotten under the covers and wiggled his way up between the two Mates.

And suddenly John was on the freezing cold floor, while the dog was in his warm spot.

Bear woofed quietly.

Harold tried to hide a smirk but failed miserably.

“Oh!  I see how this goes.”  John stood up, made his way to the bathroom, and came back out a couple of moments later, pulling on pants, a sweater, boots, coat, gloves and wooly hat.  He ordered Bear to his side, and grabbed the leash they kept by the door.  “I expect coffee when I get back.”

“I’m not moving from the warm spot.”  Harold flipped the covers over his head and curled up as much as his body would allow.

John snorted and looked at the dog, who looked back and cocked his head.

Harold ignored the commotion generated by the two of them going down the stairs, tuned out his Vampire hearing and settled back into the pillows.  He was almost asleep when he heard a yelp, a grunt, and a few choice curses.  Not wanting to move in the least, he refused to look out of his blanket cocoon even as he heard John and Bear come in again.

There was some banging around as his Mate stoked the fire up and command Bear to lie down on his bed.

There was stomping and the sound of wet clothes hitting the floor, and he hoped John picked his discarded items up off the rugs before things got damp.  The shower ran for about ten minutes, and then he heard the rustling of more clothes.

Harold smirked when he heard John rummaging around the side table, putting the kettle on.

Then suddenly the covers were lifted and his Mate slid into bed, complete with cold hands and feet.

“Mr. Reese!!” Harold squeaked in alarm as he was assaulted for a third time.

“There’s at least two feet of snow out there, and more coming.”  John pulled him close, his cold hands moving under the flannel pajamas, finding soft, warm skin and sensitive places.  “You’re nice and cuddly, Harold.”  He grinned.

“I’m not your personal heater.”  Finch wiggled but couldn’t escape.

John, careful of the injuries his Mate endured, pinned him down into the bed, taking his mouth in a passionate kiss.  “There’s one other way for you to warm me up.”

Harold chuckled against his lips, deepening the kiss still further until they were interrupted by a pathetic whine.

“Really?”  John shifted and looked at their dog.

Bear lay on the ground, paws over his nose, looking all sad.

“John, he’s cold.”

“What I have planned for generating heat, doesn’t actually include Bear,” Reese pointed out.


He looked from Harold to Bear and back again.

“Yeah, I’m not getting laid this morning.”  He held up the corner of the covers.

Bear yipped and jumped onto the bed, moving under the blankets, climbing over John and squirming lazily until he was right in the middle of his two Masters.

“Mr. Reese, I think something has come between us.”

“You think, Mr. Finch?”

John scratched behind Bear’s ears, then reached to take Harold’s hand.  As he leaned over to give him a quick kiss, he got licked instead.  “You are in so much trouble,” he growled, and Bear whined, laying his head on Harold’s shoulder.  “We’ll be talking about personal boundaries later.”

Settling down, Reese pushed Bear further away and deeper into the bed so he could have Harold lying against him.

“You smell like dog, John.”

“I could lick you.”  He nuzzled his Mate’s neck.

“Not in front of Bear!” Harold’s indignation was rather hilarious.

The dog made his way back up again, settling next to Finch, head on the pillow, falling into doggie slumber with an ease his Masters rather envied.

They smiled at each other, and were about to try and close their eyes when the kettle boiled.

“Oh!”  Harold laughed lightly.  “Tea, Mr. Reese?”

“Only if I get to warm my hands up on the mug…”

“Rather that than my stomach.”

“I can’t get both?”

Bear snuffled noisily.

“Maybe later,” Harold teased, winking at him suggestively.  “It’s going to be a long day at home for us after all.”

Sylum Advent 2015: December 31st



Title: Always Mr. Reese

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: As this particular storyline is still working out likely 2015/2016

ADMIN NOTE:  This teaser will not show up in storyline due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon.   So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon.


The gunshots were louder than normal.

“Mr. Reese?”  There were more shots, slamming of doors and then a soft sigh and what sounded like a body sliding down the wall to the ground.  “John.”

“Finch, you there?” His voice sounded pained.

“Always, Mr. Reese.”

“The number is safe, I got her and the kid out the back. They should be on their on their way to Maine, to family.”

“And you?” He asked typing furiously, pulling up feeds from all cameras in the area. None of them gave him a view of inside the warehouse.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe that Mr. Reese.” He learned that lesson before John was Turned, even less afterwards. “Tell me the truth, John.”

“Nothing a good Feeding wouldn’t cure.” A cough ended the sentence, one that sounded wet and sticky. “I’m sorry, Harold.”

“John, help is on the way.” He typed even more furiously, anger settling into his stomach at the perpetrators who dare hurt his Mate. He sat up straighter, eyes wide at the rage that was going through him. ‘Oh so that’s what John feels like when I’m in danger.’

“Yes Harold, intensify it by at least 100 and you’re good.” John chuckled darkly, having felt his Mate’s spike of anger. Harold hadn’t learned how to hide or subdue his emotions over the Bond. It was one of the first skills John had mastered, not wanting his Mate to feel his physical pain.

“I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.”

“You have a habit of muttering into the phone while working.” A moan escaped as he tried to shift. “I’m not sure how many gunmen are left, don’t send Fusco or Carter.   I’ll survive a death shot.”

“I’m not letting them kill you!” Finch snapped.

“I’m already dead.”

“Not the point, Mr. Reese!”

He blinked as the computer began sending out signals, numbers and codes. He watched as all the information of Reese’s attackers popped up on the screens. Names, social security numbers, address, banking account information. And without even a stroke of the keyboard, he watched the money drained out of accounts, bolos went out, warrants being issued –eyes went wide when alarms went off at the local Firehouses near their homes.

He stared at The Machine, remembering what happened with Root.

In a small box on top of the screen was a picture of John marked by a yellow square – Admin.

He closed his eyes, still not comfortable with the implications.

“Harold.” The voice was fading.

“I’m here, John.” At least he knew it would be taken care of, but no matter how hard he or The Machine wanted it, they couldn’t stop the men from finishing off the ex-agent.

“Turn off the sound, don’t listen.”

“I’ll not leave you, Mr. Reese.”

“Finch!” He coughed the sound going through Harold’s soul.

Tears threatened to fall but he blinked through him. His thoughts went back to the time, when the CIA had tried to take John, hearing the shots, ignoring him when he told Harold to leave. Instincts had screamed to save him! Screamed to Turn him! But he hadn’t known how, his limitations to the Vampires society had left his education on all things Vampires sorely lacking. He risked his life, found John, and paid the doctor a lot of money to save him.

Two years later he almost lost him again.

He would have if it hadn’t been for Michael Westen.

Finch owes the man, for everything.

“I’m not leaving you John.”

Fusco and Carter were already on their way, closer and more capable of dealing with the situation at hand. He alerted Dr. Megan Tillmen, who had become their Chosen One, soon after the whole Vampire thing happened.

“Help is on their way.”

And he would stay on the line, and listen to his Mate in theory ‘die’. He knew the wounds had to be bad enough for the Vampire to succumb to them. He didn’t want to imagine the blood pool.

The sound of the door being busted open had him tensing. Gunshots followed, he couldn’t help the soft smile knowing his Mate wasn’t giving up without a fight.

Then he heard something else.

A crash of glass, the sounds of fists and flesh, something he had grown to distinguish over the years, and then a secondary crash.

“Well that was new.” John’s voice sounded sluggish and tired.

“Let’s get you out of here.” A new voice, not Fusco or Carter.

Finch panicked he had no idea who was touching his Mate. “Mr. Reese! John!”

“I got him, he’s safe.” The voice was deep, strong, reminded him of a man who knew violence, but cared. “I’m going to guess a text message will show up with our address. You’ll find your Mate there.”

Finch looked down to his phone, an address in Brooklyn was on the display. “Who are you?”

“A friend.”


Bear’s leash was gripped tightly in his hands, making the dog tense and alert. This wasn’t just a walk around the park.

He had researched the address, coming back to a Peter Burke, FBI Agent, White Collar division. The fact he was FBI had put Harold on the edge, but he would find his Mate and if necessary, would destroy the FBI.

He already had the Agent’s file, the wife’s business contracts and loans, their retirement funds, along with bank accounts. He also added the CI that worked with Burke and seemed to be living with them, his release papers and contract with the FBI.

With one swipe he would eliminate them.

Finch knocked on the door, he hid his surprise when Peter Burke didn’t answer it, but instead a dark haired older man, whose hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since the 70’s. What was more disturbing was the lack of a heartbeat.

Normally he wasn’t in tuned to such things, but John had drilled him consistently to pay attention to his surroundings, especially after Root.

The man stared at him for a few moments, then down at the dog. Bear was standing next to his owner, alert and ready to attack or defend.

“I’m taking you’re hear for Mr. Tall, Dark and Wounded.”

“My Mate.”

“Well that would explain the growling.” He opened the door wider to let them in. “And I don’t mean the dog, nice pet. Dutch Malinois?”

“Yes and he can kill on my command.” Harold looked around the brownstone. It looked homey. There were photos of the Burkes, along with the CI, a young man wearing a Fedora trying to look dapper. There was an open door on the far wall, which if Finch’s calculations were correct, would lead to the home next door.

Bear whined pulling towards it.   Finch patted his head, the dog always knew where his Alpha was located.

“I’m Nathan.” He gestured towards the open door.

“Mr. Finch.” He answered easily, making his way across the room.

“I thought I knew most of the Vampires in New York.” Nathan didn’t take offense to the cold look he got from the visitor, he was quite used to it. “It’s part of my job to know where everyone is.”

“And what do you do Nathan?” Harold asked, as he stepped into the second brownstone. The house was quite different than the other. The tones warmer, the floors were made a dark wood, many more bookcases, less photographs, but still felt homey.

“Spy Liaison for Serenity Clan.”

“Mr. Castle’s Clan.” Harold stopped and stared at him.

“Mal’s yes.”

He glanced around. “The Burkes?”

“Part of Tallikut.” He answered as he led him upstairs and down the hallway to the far room. “My Mate, Eliot works with Sylum, one of Nico’s Hunters. And Neal well he’s all over the place.”

“Neal Caffrey.” He said without pause. “I have one of his paintings.”

“An original?” Nathan asked opening the door at the end of the hallway.

“No, a Raphael he forged.” He stepped into the room and paused when he saw an old Golden Retriever lying on the covers looking forlorn at John’s still body. Bear whined, pulling towards the bed. He let the leash go before limping across the room, sitting down taking his Mate’s hand.

“His wounds are healing, he’ll be awake soon.”

He knew that voice.

Harold looked up to see bright blue eyes, and a wicked smile. The long hair was pulled back in a ponytail, kept out of his face by a bandanna.   “Thank You.”

“I got a text stating a Hunter needed help. I figured it was from Nico, he has a weird way of knowing these things.”

Harold focused back on his Mate. “John.”

Eyes fluttered then opened, a hand reaching up a smile on his face. “Harold.

“Ahh that’s adorable.” Nathan smirked at his Mate. “You do the same thing after getting shot.”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “Satchmo has been watching over him.” He petted the old dog, knowing they didn’t have much time with him. He grinned when the guard dog jumped on the bed and made his way to his Alpha and licked him.

“Bear!” Harold ordered him to lie down in Dutch.

Nathan smirked before taking a seat in the chair. “Can the next dog we get, do that?”

John moved slightly, sitting up back against the headboard. “Who are you?”

“Eliot Spence, Nico’s Hitter.”

“He never mentioned you.” John refused to let go of Finch pulling him closer, in case of a threat.

“I can say the same about you.” He frowned studying him for a few moments. “You remind me of someone.”

Reese snorted. “Unless you’re CIA I doubt we’ve met.”

“You have a similar look … ” he looked at Nathan. “Doesn’t he? Does he remind you of …”

“Nick.” Nathan smirked. “He’s a Meridius.” He glanced over at Reese. “Aren’t you?”

“Fuck.” Eliot groaned that would mean there were two in the city. “Well that explains a few things.”

John shifted to get out of the bad. “I thank you, but we need to go.”

“You should Feed, your wounds are still healing. You can stay for dinner.” Eliot pushed him back down, Reese stubborn to a fault, finally gave in when his weakened body betrayed him. He didn’t want them mentioning the four wounds to Finch. Eliot nodded, sensing the Hunter relax back into the bed. He smirked, “let the dogs play.”

They watched as Bear whined softly nipping at Satchmo whose tale was wagging, as he playfully nipped back. “The old dog doesn’t get much action these days.”

“I don’t think…” Harold shook his head not wanting to jeopardize John.

“You have to get used to the Vampire community at some point.” Nathan smirked at him, having a feeling Harold and John had little exposure to the vast wide world of Clans. “You can meet Peter, El and Neal.”

“Who?” John asked frowning.

“FBI, Mrs. FBI, and FBI Conman.” Harold informed him. John wasn’t surprised his Mate knew exactly who they were. Probably was ready to destroy them, if they thought they were a threat.

“Think about it.” Nathan stood up and grabbed Eliot, knowing the Mates needed time.

As they closed the door, John leaned forward and kissed Harold softly. “I’m sorry, I scared you.”

“I…” he paused. “The Machine gave me all their names, and destroyed them. Then gave me their boss. The one who wanted our number dead for figuring out what the Senator was doing. I made it look like he stole from his ‘partners’ then emptied all of his accounts into the Caymans making him look even more guilty, sent everything on his harddrive to every government agency I could, and then sent his sex video to twitter. And I did it with glee.”

“I know, Harold.” John held him close as he confessed. “I’ll burn cities…”

“While I topple governments.”




Sylum Advent 2015: December 27th





Title: Hackers R Us

Author: Bj Jones

Sylum Timeline: Spring 2010

Author Note: This teaser is now considered Sylum Non-Canon as it Harold and John decided to change their storylines, with it everything around adjusted.


Corporal Jacob Jensen had known the moment the suits walked into the room, it wasn’t going to be good for him.

And as usually he was right.

They ‘escorted’ him off the base, into a black unmarked SUV, sometimes the stereotypes were too real. The next minute he knew he was locked in some dingy motel room that had seen better days in the Nixon era.

“Does my Commanding Officer know I’m here?” He doubted it.

Clay didn’t take to people stealing his team, let alone his Mate. He was even more protective after the whole situation with Max.

He knew that his relationship with Clay was moving slower than it was with Cougar, but despite those doubts he knew his Mate would do damage trying to find him.

And if that didn’t work he would let Carlos loose.

“He’s been informed of your new assignment, Corporal.”

“So that would be a no.”

They glared at him, but at least he wasn’t strapped to a chair with a light in his face asking for name, rank, and serial number.

The head ‘spook’ dropped a military style laptop in front of him. He looked at it, back at the goon, down at the laptop, back up … “And?”

“Hack it.”

“I’m not sure what you think I do. I’m just a Tech Specialist. I fix computers, not hack them.” He raised his hands, giving them the innocent wide eye look that never worked on Clay or Cougar.

“We know you work for Stark, and if he’s letting you use his tech, you’re the guy we want.” The agent smirked. “And Stark doesn’t work with geeks who only ‘fix computers’.”

Jake made a note to later blame Tony for this.

He opened the laptop and at first doesn’t see anything odd or unique enough that would make the US Government kidnap a ‘hacker’ and lock him in a hotel room.

Then he got through the login and settled onto the home screen.


This was a homemade laptop.

And it’s got some security goodies on it that makes Jensen drool in envy.

It was Geek heaven.

This made Jarvis…



He dug deeper into the computer and was stopped, blocked with every move he made. Almost as if it was countering him, learning what Jensen was doing and building walls and traps.

It was what Jarvis did to him while he beefed up his skills.

He sat back and stared at the laptop then back at the goon. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“If we told you we would have to kill you.” He smirked down at him.

Jensen swallowed.

This wasn’t going to end well for him.


Two weeks.

He had been locked up in the damn room.

Two weeks of Feeding off stray animals he found when they had let him outside, or the rare moment he fed on one of the goons who had fallen asleep. That particular goon wasn’t seen again, he was pretty sure there was a bullet in his head, body never to be found.

He could feel Clay and Cougars concern, fear, and anger. The last few days the Mates emotions had settled into the burn the world to the ground stage. It was only his own sense of calm assurance that likely had saved the world from burning.

A small part of him took joy in knowing Clay was as pissed as Cougar.

He tossed his glasses to the table, rubbed his face and now three day growth of beard. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” The head goon asked.

“I can’t get into this.” He put his glasses back on and gestured towards the laptop. “Anytime I get close to finding out anything I’m shut out and have to start over. Whoever designed this, designed it so guys like you can’t steal it.”

They glared at him, while he glared back.

The one glimpse he did get had been beautiful, elegant and almost alien. It was beyond anything he would ever be able to do, and the only reason he likely got as far as he did, was his work with Jarvis. Mainly because the coding he did see reminded him of Jarvis. Well if Jarvis had found a lady AI and got married and had a little Jarvis.

When he realized he wasn’t going to get anywhere within the machine, he wrote out in his own code, an apology of sort. ‘Don’t mean to intrude. But I have to say your beautiful and I wish I could get to know you.’

“There’s nothing you can give us.”


He sat back in the chair that he’d been sitting in for two weeks. His back ached, legs were numb, and he stopped feeling his ass about five days ago. He was tired, hungry, wanted his Mates, specifically wanted them to hurt the idiots, and was just done.

He knew full well his life was on the line here. He was a dead hacker whether he broke into it or not. He just hoped they didn’t chop his head off, cause that would suck.

“I’m pretty sure whatever this is…” He waves at the laptop. “… is way out of your league. I know you’re going to shoot me after this, so let me just say this. I’m good. I’m fucking good at what I do. And I can’t get in it. Hell at this moment I’m not even sure Stark could, though if you tried this routine on him, it won’t end well for you.”

Did he mention he was done?

Shoot him now, let his Mates find him, he can recoup have a vacation, and then hack his file to state he’s alive again. And if any goon comes looking for him, he’ll sick Cougar on him and wave his hand around ‘I’m not the Jacob Jensen you’re looking for’.

“Get him out of here.”

They covered his head with a black cloth. He rolled his eyes as they dragged him out of the room into the SUV. He listened carefully to follow the route, but there was little he could distinguish to indicate where he was located.

He was pulled out of the vehicle and dumped.

He waited until the sound of the SUV left, before ripping off the cloth, only to startle at a man standing in front of him. He cursed himself for not noticing the heartbeat. It was calm, steady – someone who didn’t get worked up when shooting someone in the head.

Jensen stared up at the man, he could tell he was ex-soldier, likely had been recruited from the military..

‘Kill him.’

“Something isn’t right.” His blue eyes were studying Jensen intently, as if looking for something.

‘John do you job, dump the body, all they need is some teeth.’

They continued to stare at each other.

Jensen saw the finger tighten on the trigger, he closed his eyes refusing to flinch as the gun went off.

“It’s done.” He clicked off the com and lowered his weapon. “You’re not a traitor.”

“How do you know?” Jensen asked calmly, wondering when he had gotten used to having a good pointed at his head.

“You’re a soldier.” He grabbed his arm and pulled the hacker up. “A soldier they decided was dispensable. Go.”

“Just like that, don’t they need proof?” Jacob asked not quite sure what the hell was going on.

“Want to give me your teeth?” The smile was unnerving.

“Won’t work.” Jensen shrugged. “Believe me it won’t work. Just tell him I fell into the lake. I’ll take care of my own records.”

He nodded. “Next time Corporal Jacob Jensen do not get involved.”

“I didn’t.” He gave him a smirk. “You know who I am, and you would be?”

“John.” And with that he turned and walked away.   Jensen watched him cross the open field, settling onto a motorcycle and took off down a small country road.



He turned to see Clay and Cougar rushing towards him. He fell into Cougar’s arms, exhausted and worn out. He felt Clay’s hand on his hair, soft French words in his ears. When Jacob shifted slightly, he saw Clay’s eyes glued on the small road where the operative had left.

“How did you find me?”

“Jarvis.” Cougar pulled him closer. “He’s been tracking you as best as he could. When a notice hit the local police that there was a body fitting your description he alerted us.”

“Where are we?”

“Outside New York.” Clay answered wrapping his arm around Jensen and Cougar. “Stark has a hotel room set up in the city, afterwards we’re going to Rome.”

“Why Rome?” He asked as they moved to a waiting SUV.

“Who in the right mind would take on Ernesto?” Cougar smirked.

“Best place we can hide you until we figure out what the hell is going on.” Clay checked out the surrounding area. His body tensed when he heard a car drive off. He hadn’t heard or seen anyone when they’d pulled up.

Whatever was going on, if they dared touch his Mate again. They would become acquainted with a certain set of skills that Clay hadn’t used in a long time.

~ 2016 ~

Jacob smiled as he watched Warrick lead Nick around the dance floor.

They looked happy.

Not that they weren’t in the first place, but marriage was agreeing with them. Well at least the first five hours of it.

He glanced over to see Clay talking with Javert, while Cougar and Ernesto had their heads together. He was relieved to see Kiernan heading in their direction.

He made his way to the dessert table, picking up a plate and grabbing a few items.

Jensen walked along the covered porch aiming for the front of the house, to get away from the noise. When he turned the corner, and ran into someone he yelped and jumped back. Only to yelp again and jumped further.


The man looked down at him, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Well that explains a few things.”

An older man with a limp walked up to his side. “Mr. Reese…” He paused and looked at Jensen. “Oh hello.”

“Who the hell are you?” He looked between them.

“John Reese.” He held out his hand. “You were a Vampire then?”

Jacob set his plate on the railing, wiped his hands on his pants, getting a groan from the shorter one and took John’s hand. “Yes.”

“I really should’ve shot you.” Reese smirked. “They discovered your hack into restating you were alive.” He then gave him a darker look. “And when they realized, I hadn’t killed you …”

He frowned. “Shit… what the hell was that?” He looked over at the other man. “And who are you?”

“Mr. Finch.” He answered, not offering his hand. “And that was my laptop, Count.”

Jacob looked between the two, wondering if his life was going to get even more complicated.





Sylum Advent 2015: December 8th


Title: Sylum Teaser

Author: Bj Jones

Author’s Note: This is a section of upcoming storyline that will introduce these two into Sylum – you had a mild tease of Michael Turning Reese – this particular scene will take place a year afterwards

ADMIN NOTE:  This teaser will not show up in storyline due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon.   So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon now.


She and Fusco had been brought in on the Vampire element of the whole operation exactly a week after Reese had been Turned.  She had seen him in agitated states before.  Not that it was much different from his normal mood when dealing with criminals, but suddenly he was way beyond anything either she or her partner had truly witnessed from him.

Their Man in the Suit looked ready to burn the world down.

Detective Carter couldn’t help but wonder if that was what Peter had seen right before John destroyed him.

“I won’t let them hurt him worse.”  His growl was low, deadly.

“He’s a Vampire like you, right?” Fusco pointed out.  “Finch will survive.”

“Harold is in pain.  They’ve already roughed him up trying to get their banking information.”  John focused on the scene taking place on the building across from them.

Their Person of Interest had ended up being a financial consultant for a non-profit organization, who had discovered the President of said organization busy using the charity to launder money for the Russian Mob.

While John had protected their number, Harold went undercover at the charity as an IRS Auditor, and while downloading all the necessary and highly incriminating evidence, he had taken advantage of a wide open opportunity to move the charity’s remaining accounts to a secure location.  Despite John yelling at him to get out of the building, he had deliberately risked the extra minutes to track down the rest of the laundered money too, and emptied every single account.

He’d been caught just as the last account hit zero.

John had tossed their charge into a safe house, contacted Fusco and Carter to meet him at the office building, and broken more than a dozen traffic laws to get there himself, all the while keeping his voice calm and soothing, making sure his Mate knew he was coming.

They barged onto the roof of the building, expecting Russian thugs and Harold.

Instead they found it empty.

The Vampire snarled in frustrated rage, feeling every blow that rained down on Harold.

He also felt his Mate’s already injury worn body, weaken considerably with each new wound inflicted.

It was Carter who discovered that eight goons and Harold were in fact located on the roof of the building next to the one they were standing on, and the three of them had stood on the edge looking down, watching as the leader demanded their money.

Harold never cried out in pain.

Never uttered a word.

And John felt enormous pride in his Mate, as well as a fresh sense of awe at Harold’s strength.

He also swore that those who were hurting him, would absolutely suffer the consequences.

“But he would survive?”  Fusco pushed.  “Right?  There’s no way we’re getting down these stairs, across the street, and back up the stairs before they shoot him.”

John glared at the detective.  “Yes, a Vampire will survive a head shot.  But it’s Harold!  His brain is everything he is.  It wouldn’t be about Feeding and getting up the next morning.  It could take weeks to be fully functional, and maybe months to get all of the physical and psychological ramifications worked out.  Physiotherapy.  Functionality.  How well you think Finch is going to handle that?  You don’t know what he’s endured already.”

“He’s not gonna get through that well,” Lionel had to admit.  “So now what?”  He gestured rudely at the lead thug holding a gun to Harold’s head, demanding the information he needed.

“We help Harold heal,” Carter stated simply.  “It’s all we can do…”  She paused when John ran toward the stairs.  “You won’t make it!”

John slipped off his outer coat, dumped his gun, phone and anything that was excessive weight.

Then he looked across the rooftop…

‘How did you do it?’ he asked Nicolaus, as they walked Central Park. 

‘Do what?’

‘That jump.’  John glanced sideways at his Clan Leader.  

It had been just over six months since he’d been Turned, and discovered at least some of the slightly more outrageous truth about Harold Finch.  Six months since the two had Mated.  Six months of learning, changing, adapting to his new way of life. 

Michael had told them about Clans and the whole Vampire social system.  Harold had glared at The Machine for a very long time, growling darkly at Jarvis for not mentioning a few things. 

John did point out that Harold had failed to mention the Vampire thing for two years. 

Mr. Finch ignored him. 

They had expected an invitation to New Orleans, that they might finally meet their Clan Leader.

They hadn’t expected Aiden Pierce.

It had been a typical day, with Reese trying to save their latest number, only to discover he wasn’t a victim but a perpetrator, wanted in New Orleans for a half-dozen major crimes.  He had contacted Carter and was just ready to take the guy down, when a man in a dark brown leather coat, wearing a baseball cap and a bandana, showed up out of nowhere and took the perp out instead. 

Carter, gun raised, yelled at their new mystery man to freeze.  

Whereupon Reese watched in fear and amazement as the guy calmly lifted his arms, a cell phone in one hand.  With a swipe of his thumb across the screen, the entire city block went black.  

And he was gone. 

Reese gave chase.

But he didn’t have Finch in his ear telling him where to go.

Instead he ran through alleys, up the sides of buildings, and then across rooftops.

All on instinct.

The Vampire skills he had been starting to learn, kicking in without pause. 

He almost had the man, until his target jumped across a section of buildings that were situated far too far apart for Reese to tackle.  Which pissed him off.  But not as much as when the guy turned to give him a cheeky wave before he ran off again. 

On returning the library, he found Harold sitting at his desk wide-eyed, while the man in the dark brown coat played contentedly with Bear. 

Before he could demand some answers, the mystery dude simply stood up, smiled warmly and introduced himself as Nicolaus Valerius Meridius. 

 Mr. Finch wanted to know how Nico had accessed The Machine to facilitate his escape.

Mr. Reese wanted to know how the hell anyone could have jumped that gap.

Only one of them got their answer.

‘Shut off your brain,’ Nico informed him easily.  ‘You’re already learning how to surpass your human limitations.  But then you’ve been trained to surpass most of your human limitations some time ago already.  Now you just need to take those few steps further.  Surpass every other instinct that screams in your mind to stop.’

‘It’s one thing to surpass limitations.  It’s another to fly!’ John pointed out.  ‘That was a street, not an alley.’ 

‘Would it help if I told you that I know men who did such things while they were still human?’


Nico laughed openly.  ‘You can do it, Mr. Reese.  The catch?  You have to believe you can.’

John Reese closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

He cleared his mind of all doubts.

All fears.

He thought only of his Mate.

Harold needed him.

His eyes snapped open.

He was calm.

One foot in front of the other.

He picked up speed.

Didn’t think.

Just moved.

Did what his instincts said were impossible.

As his foot hit the edge of the building, he pushed himself off into thin air, the only thought in his head being but a single line of blunt admittance.

‘What the actual fuck am I doing here?’


Harold knew perfectly well he should’ve listened to Mr. Reese.  His Mate was, after all, the one who spent his time mostly in the field, fully trained for covert operations.

But the chance to do good had presented itself, and Harold was not really one to miss those particular opportunities.  Not anymore.

And he’d almost made it.

Until he’d gotten caught in the lobby.

As the Russians dragged him into the parking garage, demanding to know what he’d done, he knew he was in serious trouble.

When they’d discovered their money gone, the beatings began.

He blinked back the distress, focusing instead on the sound of John’s voice in his ear, telling him he was on his way and everything would be fine

Always calm, his Mate, yet always deadly.

There was a tiny section of his brain that took great joy in imagining just what Mr. Reese would do to his assailants.  For he already knew that John was protective.  He had been that way even before they were Mated.

But when their Bond had formed, he’d taken ‘protective’ and turned it into plain and simple viciousness.

Harold lost track of where they were at, and so it came as a surprise when he somehow ended up on the roof of the building across from the charity and its main offices.

It was almost as though…

He looked around, trying to figure out why they would drag him to such a place.  There was no reason to put a bullet in his brain on the roof.  They might as well have done it in the parking garage, and gotten it over with.

Unless someone wanted a front row seat.

Or wanted John to have a front row seat.

Harold’s body ached.  His neck and shoulders were tight, the muscles locked solid.  He had held up his hands for so long, he couldn’t be sure if he’d ever get to put them down of his own volition.

He could hear Carter and Fusco arguing with John, telling him there was nothing he could do.

And they were right.

John would not be able to get to him in time.

Death didn’t scare him.

He’d faced off with it once already.

And he knew no matter the injury, his Mate would take care of him.  He understood, after all those years in ignorance of certain truths, just what having a Mate truly meant, for the dedication and loyalty they showed to each other, utterly amazed him.  They were complete, only when they were together.

He hoped John knew just how very thoroughly he would destroy governments for him if it ever proved necessary.  He might not wield a gun, but he could still shred lives, topple the powerful, crush the otherwise impervious fools who got in his Mate’s way…

Harold frowned when the gun that had been pointed at his head, wavered in front of him, and he looked at the lead goon, whose mouth was slack, and whose eyes were suddenly wide with shock.

Finch turned around to see what the whole lot of them were staring at.

And in that instant, everything Warrick had told him made perfect sense.

He knew John Reese would kill anyone who might see fit to hurt him.  There could be no doubting what his Mate was capable of; he had read his CIA File, hand-picking him for work with The Machine because it had been the right thing to do.

He had even seen it once before, when he’d been kidnapped by that crazy woman who thought The Machine was God – back before Mr. Reese had been Turned.

But then there was…?

There was the Meridius in John’s blood.

‘You have to understand what it’s like being Mated to a Meridius.’  Warrick had kidnapped Finch from the library, while Nico and Reese strolled Central Park with Bear. 

The two sat at one of those up-scale bars in a non-descript high rise, drinking an expensive bottle of wine, and eating hundred dollar steaks. 

‘The Meridii are stubborn, Mr. Finch.  To a fault.  They know it too.  They know they can be stubborn in the worst possible moments.  Doesn’t stop them.’ 

‘Mr. Reese…’

‘…is loyal.’   Warrick sipped his wine, giving Finch time to adjust to everything.  ‘But once he fully embraces the Meridius inside him?  He won’t stop.’

‘I’m not sure I understand how it’s different.’

‘I’m sure your Mr. Reese will leave freely carnage behind him in order to find you.  He would shoot out knee caps, maybe even put a few bullets into the heads of your enemies.’  

Finch only nodded.

‘But the Meridii will burn cities to the ground.  They will not stop.  Ever.  No feat too extreme.  No situation too impossible.  They will do whatever they need to.  Kill whoever they have to.  Hunt to the ends of the earth and beyond for the ones they love.’  

Warrick studied him for a moment before speaking again.

‘Ever hear of a small village in England, called Hengehurst?’

‘No.’ Finch wasn’t exactly familiar with the geography of England, but he could easily do a quick search on his phone, and noticed the Pirate wait patiently for him to do that very thing. 

With quick, subtle gestures, he scanned files, Google, documents, maps. 


‘Pre-digitization,’ he concluded.

‘You didn’t find anything,’ Warrick smirked, ‘because there’s nothing to find.  Nico razed it to the ground.  Once upon a time, he met Warren there, his Mate.  The town turned against them both.  They dragged Warren out into the square and burned him at the stake for ‘witchcraft’, or ‘sodomy’.  Who knows?  They’d been riled into mob mentality by then.’ 

‘What happened?’   Harold’s eyes went wide at hearing the tale.

‘He killed every man, woman, child and dog,’ Warrick answered, sipping his wine a little more.  ‘Then burned the town.  Nothing remained.  Nothing remains even now but a bad memory, and a nasty stench.’   He set his glass down on the dining table, and leaned closer to Finch.  ‘Don’t think for a second, that your Mr. Reese won’t burn New York to the ground, and walk through the flames to find you.’ 

‘But you came back.’

Warrick smiled. ‘Yeah I came back.’

It wasn’t as dramatic as the city in flames, but the sight before him settled exactly what Mr. Calhoun had stated.

Mr. Reese landed on the roof, having jumped – or maybe flown was a better word – from the building opposite.

At least eight floor up.

The subsequent impact was hard as he went down on one knee, rolling with the momentum, only to stand and keep moving toward his goal.

The first thug pulled a gun.

Reese grabbed his wrist, snapped it, took the gun from his loosened fingers, put a bullet into the guy’s knee.   Without pause he moved to the left, tapping both knees of the second thug, before dropping the gun, stepping to the side and sliding past the third.  John’s elbow slammed into the man’s side as he reached under the third gunman’s coat and pulled another gun, shooting out the kneecaps of gunmen four and five, before knocking the third out flat.

He hit his own knees, bending backwards, grabbing another gun that had dropped from goon number five, before shifting back up and taking out six and seven.

With an ease and grace that Harold could only envy, John was on his feet again and striding with determined purpose straight for him.

The leader of the Russian thugs aimed his weapon, only to end up with a bullet between the eyes.

Mr. Reese dropped the guns, tossing them away like they were nothing but cheap, second rate tools, before coming to halt in front of his Mate.  “Harold?”

“John.”   Finch stared at the carnage around him, and then back at the opposite building.  “You know, that really shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.”

John chuckled lightly.  “Well, it wasn’t as easy as I made it look,” he deadpanned, pulling his Mate closer to him, soothing his arms back down, knowing they were stiff and sore.  “Can you walk?”

“I don’t think so.”  He hated to admit a weakness but his spine was burning, and his hip unsteady.

Without hesitating, Reese scooped Harold up into his arms.  “Let’s go home.”

The roof access door banged open to the sight of Carter and Fusco, red-faced, panting and sweating like they’d just done a Marathon.

“What the fuck was that?” Lionel yelled at him.

“Not now, Fusco.”  John ignored both detectives, making his way to the open door.  “We’ll both need to Feed once we get secured.”

“Are you injured, Mr. Reese?”  Finch asked, horrified that he was being carried, yet grateful for it all the same.

“I’m fine, Mr. Finch.”

‘Also watch out for the ‘I’m Fine’ routine,’ Warrick warned.  ‘A Meridius could have an arm missing and they’d still tell you they’re fine.’

“I’m quite sure you’re lying to me, Mr. Reese.”

John shifted Harold in his arms slightly, taking the pressure off his broken ribs.  It was a very good thing he didn’t have to breathe.  The fracture to his leg was more of a problem though.  It wasn’t severe enough to cause him stress, but he felt it all the same, and figured once he got chance to Feed it would be strong again.  He wasn’t the one who’d been beaten half to death after all.

“Next time, you’ll listen when I say to get out.”  Reese gave him a warm smile as they headed down the stairs, and out the exit to the top floor, moving easily to the elevators.  “Tell me the car is in the garage?”

“The two buildings are connected,” Carter stated, covering the two of them.  “We were able to get across that way.   The Russians were kind enough to leave their SUV for our personal needs.”

“How did you do that?”  Harold asked quietly, content to be in his Mate’s embrace.  He’d make sure to check John over later and tend to his wounds in person.

“Do what?”

“That jump.”  He gave him a look which suggested categorically, he wouldn’t tolerate being lied to.

“I would do anything for you, Harold.”  John’s blue eyes flashed with determination and love.  “Even leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

“Or burn them?”

“If I have to.”

In time he got Finch settled in their vehicle, sliding into the backseat with him, holding his Mate close against him.

The two detectives got into the front seats, both staring at each other with wide eyes.  They had always pretty well known what their friends were capable of doing for each other.  But they figured it was actually way more than either of them yet knew.

God help the world if anyone deliberately went after them.


Elias stood on the far rooftop of the third building nearby, watching the proceedings.

He was the one who’d tipped off the Russian Mob that Harold was not really an IRS agent.  Oh, he liked the man sure enough, and didn’t want to see harm come to him.  The little guy helped people, saw there was good in the world and tried to save it from itself.  That was a highly commendable enterprise to engage in.

But the Russian Mob had started to get annoying, and Elias knew exactly what Mr. Reese would do to them if they harmed Mr. Finch.

He wasn’t disappointed.

What he hadn’t expected was the superhuman strength John had so willingly, and so dramatically showcased.

That was new.

But there was nothing he couldn’t find information on in New York.

He just had to ask the right questions…


Sylum Story: I’m being an Evil Tease because I can



ADMIN NOTE:  This will not show up in storyline now due to the fact Harold and Reese totally changed their canon.   So Enjoy the snippet but understand this is Non-Canon now.


It had started with a number.

It always did.

When the number turned out to be Detective Kate Beckett of the NYPD, everything in him had screamed to grab Finch and walk away.

Mr. Finch refused to leave, reminding him that it was their duty to save these lives.

When Michael Westen leaned against the wall next to him, while he was watching the detective, he knew he should have gone with his instincts and kidnap Finch, fuck The Machine and its Number.

Three days later everything went to shit.

The mafia’s henchmen opened fire in the precinct.

Bold, if Reese said so himself, and stupid.

He was surprised at how fast the writer reacted, let alone the accuracy and versatility he showed in shooting back.   He ignored Beckett’s yelling, and kept her behind the desk.  Esposito grabbed Ryan and hit the floor, covering the smaller man from the hail of bullets.

Reese’s weapon was out before they even started shooting, he noticed Westen had done the same.  The two moved easily through the precinct taking out gunman in tandem.  That was until one got a few lucky shots in and John went down.

“Reese!”  Westen took out the gunman then slid next to him.  “Sam need help here.”

“Busy Michael!”  Sam yelled from his position across the room, back to the wall, gun in hand.

It was then two men wearing blue jeans, t-shirts and black peacoats walked up the stairs in perfect sync, pulled their weapons and began firing.  They never missed and didn’t stop until the mafia guys were dead and they were standing in front of Javier and Ryan.

“That’s something you don’t see every day.” Reese leaned back against the wall, gun next to him.  Two shots, one to the abdomen, the other to the chest.  Finch wasn’t on his way to save him this time.

‘Mr. Reese’

“I’m sorry Mr. Finch.”  His voice soft and caring.  “I don’t think I’m getting out of this one.”

“Not so fast John.”  Westen settled in front of him, ripping open his shirt to check the wounds.  “Fuck.”

John’s eyebrow went up, “You don’t cuss.”

“Unfortunately my Mate has been a bad influence.” Michael looked around the room, then back at his old friend.  SWAT would be moving in fast, and Reese was still very much wanted by NYPD and the CIA.

Reese groaned when Michael lifted him into a fireman’s carry and made his way out of the main office area, he kicked open the door to a side office and laid him down on the couch.  Slammed the door shut and moved a chair in front of it.

“That won’t stop SWAT.”  Reese smirked as a coughing fit took over.  He lifted his hand, wiping away the blood.

“Sam will take care of it.”  Michael looked down at his only friend and mentor at the Agency. “I can save you.”

“What?”  John looked up at him.

“I was going to tell you, once this was over, but as usually nothing goes to plan.”  Michael knelt next to the couch.  “Tell your Mr. Finch to have an ambulance waiting and blood packets.”

‘Oh.’  Finch’s shock came through the earpiece.  ‘He’s a Vampire.’

“A what?” Reese coughed again, this time chocking on the blood that was beginning to pool in his lung.  He looked at Michael, having trusted the man in combat and in the field.  “Do it, whatever it is.  I can’t leave him.”

‘Mr. Reese…’

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them they were unnaturally bright.  He gave Reese a grin that accented the fangs.  “You’re getting more say in this than I did.”

Reese nodded, his eyes closing.  “Harold…”

‘I’ll be there when you wake up John.’



Sylum Advent – December 27th: Fic by John Sheppard & Bj Jones



Title: The Fighter

Author: John Sheppard

Summary: Danny isn’t happy with Steve’s new Charity work.

(Sylum Non-Canon)


Title: CSI: Anthology – Invisible Evidence

Author: Bj Jones

Summary: This is a series of stories of how Nick & Warrick deal with being CSIs working in Vegas.

Author’s Note: This series of stories takes place through CSI seasons 1 – 4.  Some episodes have been changed to fit Sylum perimeters.  Also there are Sylum storyline changes that will be showcased in the 10th Anniversary of Clan War.

2nd Author’s Note: The episode title will be used as reference.  I would suggest a re-watch of Old School CSI, to get the references, as the episode is not re-written it’s only there as a base of what’s going in and around that moment.

Link to Archive

Sylum Advent – December 4th: Fics by Shep and Bj Jones


Title: It’s My Life

Author:  John Sheppard

Summary:   Danny gets a surprise visit while fighting for a better custody agreement regarding his time spent with Grace.

(Sylum Non-Canon)


Title: CSI: Anthology – Slaves of Las Vegas

Author: Bj Jones

Summary: This is a series of stories of how Nick & Warrick deal with being CSIs working in Vegas.

Author’s Note: This series of stories takes place through CSI seasons 1 – 4.  Some episodes have been changed to fit Sylum perimeters.  Also there are Sylum storyline changes that will be showcased in the 10th Anniversary of Clan War.

2nd Author’s Note: The episode title will be used as reference.  I would suggest a re-watch of Old School CSI, to get the references, as the episode is not re-written it’s only there as a base of what’s going in and around that moment.

Link to Archive

Seven Days of Summer: Day 6 – Fic by John Sheppard & Bj Jones


Title: Silver Linings

Author: John Sheppard

Rating: FRM

Summary: Ben’s day just keeps getting more interesting.

(Non-Canon Story)


Title: CSI: Anthology – Evaluation Day & CSI: Anthology – Strip Strangler

Author: Bj Jones

Rating: FRAO

Summary: This is a series of stories of how Nick & Warrick deal with being CSIs working in Vegas.

Author’s Note: This series of stories takes place through CSI seasons 1 – 4.  Some episodes have been changed to fit Sylum perimeters.  Also there are Sylum storyline changes that will be showcased in the 10th Anniversary of Clan War.

2nd Author’s Note: The episode title will be used as reference.  I would suggest a re-watch of Old School CSI, to get the references, as the episode is not re-written it’s only there as a base of what’s going in and around that moment.

Link to Archive

Seven Days of Summer: Day 2 – Fic & Artwork



Title: Bridging the Past and the Future

Author: John Sheppard

Rating: FRM

Summary: Sean Boswell explores his connections with others in his Clan.

(Story Non-Canon)


Artwork: Cougar Wallpaper by Taibrigh


Title: CSI: Anthology – Who Are You?

Author: Bj Jones

Rating: FRAO

Summary: This is a series of stories of how Nick & Warrick deal with being CSIs working in Vegas.

Author’s Note: This series of stories takes place through CSI seasons 1 – 4.  Some episodes have been changed to fit Sylum perimeters.  Also there are Sylum storyline changes that will be showcased in the 10th Anniversary of Clan War.

2nd Author’s Note: The episode title will be used as reference.  I would suggest a re-watch of Old School CSI, to get the references, as the episode is not re-written it’s only there as a base of what’s going in and around that moment.

Link to Archive

Sylum Advent – December 12th: The Private Journals of Henry Sturges – December 12, 2013 by Timothy Quinn

December 12th



Title: The Private Journals of Henry Sturges – December 12, 2013

Author: Timothy Quinn

Summary: Journal Entries for Henry Sturges.


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