I had to reblog this. Emily Dickinson may have been an agoraphobic pansy, but her poetry is to die for. And, well, SeveRemus on FP has always been one of my favorite authors.
A/N: Finch’s point of view.
Finch hoped desperately that Reese would not look for him, and yet he also hoped — equally desperately — that he would. Although he was nervous around guns and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Root would not hesitate to use hers, he was more concerned that she might turn its lethal aim on innocent bystanders — people going about their daily, mundane lives with no inkling of who Finch was or what he had created or that it was watching them constantly, day and night. In this as well, Root had judged him correctly: Finch was not afraid to die. After all, he was already dead, and he knew exactly how much pain a human body could and could not withstand. He had prepared a contingency (he was confident that Reese would be able to figure out his encryption system) in the…
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