Word Count: 288
Summary: After coming back from an undercover assignment, Fin's having trouble adjusting. John helps.
It was a week after his last undercover assignment. A temporary switch back to Narcotics to bag a dealer he hadn't been able to before he transferred to Special Victims. There had been a problem, though, they knew him, but his leave had been so long, he'd had to, basically, prove himself trustworthy again.
He'd been gone two months.
For two months, Fin Tutuola was Jose Martinez, an amateur drug dealer who wanted in on a bigger group. He'd spent most of that time speaking the Spanish his parents had taught him as a child, so much that when he'd returned to Manhattan, to his friends, he kept slipping into the other language.
And he'd spent so long undercover, his real personality had begun to fade from his memory.
Who was he? Was he Fin or was he Jose?
Fin had been told by old friends that they'd felt the same after a long undercover operation, some had even left the force because they'd lost who they were.
And now, staring into the bathroom mirror in his apartment, Fin didn't recognize himself. Fin Tutuola, a lot of the time, wore a frown, a hard look that intimidated the hell out of a suspect. Jose Martinez wore a smile that charmed everyone into believing his stories, and his eyes only went hard when someone doubted him.
The reflection in the mirror looked lost, tired.
It wasn't either of them.
Who the hell am I?
Arms encircled his waist, making Fin look up with questioning eyes at the man behind him.
John lay a kiss on Fin's temple, whispering, “You're Fin.”
Fin's eyes widened a fraction, not realizing his question had been spoken aloud.