Change of Attitude

Finch curled up on the sofa. Her Papa had left most of the furniture, in fact, which was nice, but she could see where certain things were missing. Photographs gone, some of the artwork taken off the walls. Her mum's clothes and Papa's guns were absent, leaving behind echoes of the people that used to live in the flat with her.

It was nice, actually. The first night, she slept on the sofa, falling asleep with popcorn in her hand while an old film played on the telly.

But...

She couldn't go into the loft. Being alone back there, without Jack on the sofa or Mum and Papa sleeping safe and sound in the other room was unnerving. Frightening. She'd never been alone for that long before.

She missed them.

So, on the third night, after a long afternoon in the tattoo shop, followed by a full shift at Moriarty's, Finch curled into a ball on her kitchen floor and started to cry. Because, like any newly independent young girl, all she wanted was her mummy back.

There was a knock at the door.

Finch sniffed and wiped her eyes. At two in the morning it was probably Spencer, looking for another night of drunken dancing with his sister. She did worry so about her younger brother. Padding gently to the front door, she looked through the peep hole before unlocking it.

"Hi," she whispered, licking her lips.

Vance smiled awkwardly. A little puff of cold air come from his mouth.

"Hey-er, hi," he said, shifting on his feet. "I um, just got off- I meant, from work! And I bought too much Chinese. I thought, you know, you might be hungry?" He was still in work gear, black on black, with a plaid shirt. Heavy boots and a bulge that was definitely not happy to see anyone.

Finch blinked her puffy eyes, and she moved to let him inside. Her pyjama bottoms were too loose and hung off her hips, her striped tee shirt clashing with the plaid pants. If hadn't even occurred to her to eat, actually, and she was pretty hungry. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thanks," he said, hurrying inside. "Cold out there, you know? Sat for nearly two hours in a - well, I doubt you want to hear about that part." He started pulling boxes out of the brown paper bag and setting them out. He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it in a chair, making himself at home.

His shoulder holster was still on.

"Oops," he grinned. "Forgot about this. Did your dad leave a safe?"

"Uh, um, yes," Finch shook her head, pointing in the direction of the master bedroom. "I think he left the small one in their closet. Should be open since I've not needed it, really."

Vance disappeared, noting the strange disquiet in the house. He hadn't overlooked her puffy red face, but he did want to bury the criminal, not flaunt it in her eyes. He locked up both guns and his larger knife. He kept the thin one in his pocket because - it wasn't really hurting anything. Just a pocket knife.

He returned to the living room, pausing to turn up the heat.

"Hope you don't mind, still a bit chilled," he said. "Turned up the heat."

"No, I don't mind," she replied, thankful that there was another person in the house. It suddenly didn't feel so strange. She was perched on a stool at the counter, curls escaping her messy bun to frame her face. Finch cleared her throat. "Do you- um, have fun? Doing whatever it is you're doing now?"

Vance grinned. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm.. it's not all bad," he said. "Is crimes against other criminals so bad?" He picked up a pair of chopsticks and opened a box of lo mein as he stood at the counter. "Sometimes it's funny. They're so wrapped up with the shiny things in front of them, they miss me stealing from under their noses."

"And you're off the streets. How's that been? Is it weird for you?" Finch asked, pushing some fried rice around a paper plate.

"Sometimes," Vance admitted. "Having all this.. stuff. Having enough to eat. I must've gained two stone since I picked you up off the street, silly bird." He laughed at her.

"Best-worst night of your life?" Finch replied with a little giggle. She smiled at him. "I'm glad for you. I mean, I know it must be hard, but at least now you're..." She couldn't say safe, because he wasn't, not in his line of work, but... "taken care of."

"I was taken care of afore," Vance said, shifting to his other leg. "But this is more fun. A bit lonely now without your mum and Jack breathin' down my neck every day. Of course, your mum texts constantly. Not just to me, but to take care of things. Seemed a bit empty in their room. I thought Christmas was just a trial run, that they'd be back?"

Finch shrugged, looking about the flat. Seeing all the missing things that a stranger wouldn't notice. "I s'pose it worked out. They've not been back."

"Hmm," Vance replied, finishing up a bit of beef and broccoli. "How've you been getting on then? New job?"

"Um, y'know, been busy. Working. Pulling shifts at both jobs," Finch said with a shrug. Trying desperately to be occupied. "Abby seems to think I'm doing alright. Well, at least, I think she thinks that."

"Hasn't told you to piss off, so you must be doing something right," Vance said, setting aside his chopsticks. "Mind if I turn on the telly? I haven't got one at my flat."

"I don't mind," Finch shrugged. "You want me to box up your leftovers? You really did buy an awful lot of food."

"Stick 'em in the fridge, if you don't mind?" Vance said, sitting down to take off his boots. "Eyes bigger'n my stomach." And he knew there was a girl next door, who he wanted an excuse to talk to. He flicked on the telly, finding something, anything to watch. Finch snorted at how cozy he seemed to be making himself, but she did put the food in the fridge. No sense in it going to waste.

"Anything good on?" she asked, coming over to sit next to him, her feet curled under her.

"Hmm? I dunno," Vance said, flicking his eyes to the side. "Haven't really seen much. I'm hardly one to judge. I like anything that's not the news. Jack watched the news everywhere we went. Even places I'm sure he didn't understand what they were sayin'."

"He likes to pretend he knows to impress Mum, and she likes to indulge him so he doesn't feel stupid," Finch said with a shrug. "She doesn't watch telly much, even news. It seems to make her sad."

"You don't seem real happy yourself, little bird," Vance said softly.

Finch shook her head, pretending to stifle a yawn. "Just tired. I've been working really hard. Trying to, anyway. Doesn't leave me much time for sleep."

Vance slipped his arm around the back of her shoulders, leaning in.

"Okay," he agreed, knowing she was lying. "I understand. I have a 'home' now, but I don't much like comin' back to it. It's a bit cold and a bit empty."

"You don't like being alone?" Finch asked, her eyes wide. Without realizing it, she leaned in instinctively, putting her face closer to his as she tried to read his eyes.

"No way," Vance said. "Specially not in winter. Usually found someone or a group or so to shack up with. Kept warm and had people to look out for ya." He smiled fondly. "Sometimes, especially if there were littles, we'd all sleep together like a pile of pups."

"Do you miss it?" She hated how full of questions she appeared to be, but she wanted to know.

"Yes and no," Vance admitted. "I miss the freedom. I have responsibilities now. Scared the piss outta me in America! But then between your mum's birthday and Christmas, I've- well, it's kind of like I got this family now."

The people on the television laughed. Apparently he'd stopped on some sort of game show.

Vance snuggled closer, laying his head on top of Finch's.

"Yeah, my mum has this way of picking people up and making them one of us," Finch agreed, eyes staring blankly at the television. "I mean, look at all the boyfriends she has. And girlfriends." There was a pause, while she considered something. "You and her, I mean, my mum, you never, um. I mean, if you did-"

Vance sat up straight.

"With your mum?!" he half shouted, eyes wide. "No way! I mean, not that she's not, of course, she's, but I, no! No!"

Finch blushed hiding her face in her shoulder, wishing she could curl under the couch and hide just for asking. "It's just that she does it with like, everyone I've ever met, so I just was wondering- I mean, you were in a hotel room with her for a long time!"

Vance pulled Finch's chin out, turning her to face him. "She had me doing sums, and reading, and learning Mandarin while she works and shagged you- erm, Jack. Believe me, she acted more like a mum to me than my mum ever, ever did."

"Good. I mean, I mean, I'm glad she didn't um, that you didn't. That she didn't make you too uncomfortable," Finch finished lamely, cheeks burning.

Vance licked his lips. He leaned forward to kiss Finch softly.

"There's been a lot of perks workin' for your mum, but not for one minute did it have anything to do with a shag," he whispered. "I may not be the prettiest thing, like your fella Brandon, but I never hurt for company on the street."