Chapter 1

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Finch stripped his clothes and body armour off and tossed them onto the floor for his future self to deal with, flopped face first onto his bed, and welcomed sleep. It was three thirty in the morning and he'd been working for over twenty four hours now. He was just starting to drift off when his phone rang.

He ignored it. He had no idea who might have his personal number but not know to fucking call reception at this hour because he was either sleeping or working, but his voicemail message would set them straight. It rang out, and then five seconds later, it started ringing again.

Finch fumbled for his phone and squinted at the screen. Luther. Yeah, that checked out. He had given Luther his number a year ago so that he could call him back about something along with explicit instructions to never use it again after that, but it was Luther so of course he didn't give two shits about anyone else's boundaries.

Finch hit the answer call button. "Fucking call reception, asshole."

"Ah, Finch," Luther said as though Finch had just greeted him with a friendly hello. "I need your help with something."

"You can tell Adin all about it. He's a great listener."

"I'm sure, but unfortunately I don't have time to talk my way through him to get to you. This is a time sensitive situation."

"Uh huh," Finch murmured, eyes shut, sprawled out on his side. "But do I care?"

"It's paying work."

"But I'm sleepy."

"Please, Finch. This is important."

The rare hint of sincerity in Luther's voice convinced Finish not to hang up on him for another minute. He sighed. "What do you want, Luther?"

"Ah," Luther said. "I would rather not say over the phone."

"Why?"

"I watched this movie. They... is hacked the right word? Someone hacked a phone?"

"Like, bugged it?"

"Yes. I think so? Anyway, it made me realise that I don't really understand technology and that might be something I need to worry about."

Finch rolled onto his back, but his eyes still refused to open. "I doubt anyone's bugged your phone, Luther. Why would anyone even want to?"

"I can't tell you that over the phone."

"In case it's bugged."

"Right."

"The problem is that I don't actually like you, so..."

"That's why I'm paying you, not asking for a favour. I can give you five hundred, in cash."

"Fucking cash? Did you watch a movie about the dangers of bank transfers as well?"

"I'm trying to stay off the grid."

Finch sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Luther, you called me from your normal fucking phone that you've been using for at least a year now."

"I turned off location services. Is that not enough?"

"No. If you actually care about being tracked, hang up now and destroy that thing."

"Hm. Okay."

To Finch's relief, Luther actually hung up. Finch tossed his phone halfway across his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He was almost off to sleep when his phone rang again.

Unknown caller. Normally he just wouldn't answer, but he could guess what had happened.

"Go away," Finch said as soon as he picked up.

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