SAID AND DONE
When all was said and done, Harold Dashwood returned to his long lost love Grace. After their reconnection on the street came an awkward silence. After the silence came a difficult discussion about their past. After the difficult discussion, came more difficulties explaining Harold's last year and the role he played in Grace's kidnapping. After that conversation, came the most important part - talking about their future.
They were both aware that time couldn't be turned back and they had changed as couple, so they decided to take their relationship slowly, starting with being friends. Grace invited him to her little house. Once there; Harold confided in Grace, about his work with a special group of certain individuals, who helped him save the world. When Grace asked if she could meet them, Harold hadn't expect the question and just stood there frozen to the spot.
"I'm sorry," Grace intuitively knew something happened to them. The signs couldn't be more evident.
"You already met them," Harold whispered gently, like he tried to gauge his own reaction to the words. As if Harold wasn't sure she could handle the truth. "They were all there on the bridge."
Grace saw his expression with the last word, bridge. An ordinary structure would not bring so much sorrow into her fiancé's face, if it wasn't somehow significant.
"Keep yourself alive, Harold. I'll be coming for you."
Harold visibly paled under the onslaught of pain. He took a step back and sat on the sofa. It had been two weeks since Harold last saw John Reese. Two weeks; he didn't allow himself time to mourn. In the aftermath of Samaritan's destruction, Harold was left bleeding. After his visit to emergency room and subsequent operation, Harold soon escaped to his apartment. There, awaited a confirmation of purchase for a plane ticket to Italy on his laptop. The Machine probably did all that before she was destroyed too. She wanted him to go back to Grace.
Harold said goodbye to detective Fusco, who was still recovering from a stab wound at hospital. He tried to reach Miss Shaw, but he couldn't find her. When Harold went to a security check at the airport, he saw Sameen's face in the crowd. She stood motionless and Harold couldn't read her face. Shaw only nodded a silent goodbye in his direction and was suddenly gone from sight. Ex-CIA agents were always extraordinary at disappearing.
In Italy, Harold spent every waking moment with Grace. They tried to sleep in the same bed, but Harold moved to the guest room. He repeatedly woke up Grace in the middle of the night with his nightmares. He didn't want to bother her. Grace didn't deserve this.
When Harold had the talk with Grace, he described to the smallest detail of a police detective, who helped him a lot without giving any name - Fusco. He told Grace about his greatest enemy, who became his friend - Root. Harold couldn't help the fond smile, when he thought about Sameen's sociopathic behavior, which melted at the first sight of Bear. Harold mentioned his canine in passing. When Grace asked how Harold came by a dog in his and his friend's difficult situation, his chest squeezed to the point of physical pain.
"Harold, meet Bear."
"It was a gift from a friend," Harold whispered in answer. He couldn't talk for the rest of the day, because everything reminded him of John Reese.
The day after, Harold told Grace that Root was killed, and Sameen Shaw and Lionel Fusco were still in New York. For the first time, Harold used their names. They were not in danger. Samaritan wasn't listening anymore. He could speak about them out loud without fear. Grace didn't need to ask what happened to Harold's friends. It was obvious from his reaction.
Harold spent a month in Italy, they finally found a comfortable routine again. Grace would draw for long hours at park, or on the sea shore. Harold would be sitting nearby, calmly sipping a hot tea. He never ordered his favorite brand. Every time Harold tried to speak up, his throat burned with unshed tears.
"Sencha green tea. One sugar. Relax, Finch, it's just tea. I haven't guessed your favorite color yet."
Grace didn't try to entertain Harold. Their relationship was comfortable. Harold loved Grace and he was glad he finally could spend these moments in her presence. She was radiant, happy, peaceful, understanding and every moment with Grace, felt like a balm.
Until one day when a barking at the park made Harold spill tea on himself and the pavement. He lost control of the paper cup and was on his feet in a second, turning around with madly beating heart and hopeful eyes, only to be met by a Hispanic woman walking a Belgian Malinois with black fur nearby. The disappointment almost killed him.
"Harold? Are you ok?" Grace asked gently, carefully taking his hand.
"Yes." Harold's life was in ruins. He couldn't function, he could barely sleep. This apparently peaceful life with Grace, made the change in Harold's existence so much more obvious. He had his life back, but Harold was very lost.
Harold constantly fought with his intrusive thoughts. That niggling suspicion of not being worthy enough. He was not suppose to survive. Harold had to make peace with himself. He knew he would die and he wanted to protect the rest of his family by doing that. Harold only had John, Sameen and Fusco. Never in his wildest imagination could he think about a future with Grace. She was so far away, and Harold's place was beside John.
"Did you hurt yourself?"
Harold didn't understand Grace. She was so patient and gentle with him. The sweetest soul Harold would ever meet. When he was alone, the truth was staring Harold in the face - he would give anything to have John back and help him with the Irrelevant Numbers.
Harold glanced down, where Grace continued the inspection of his hand. His fingers were singed and looking red. "I'm alright." This was the crucial problem. Harold didn't want to be alright. He wanted to be back on the right roof this time, saving everybody. Not looking at John giving up his life and hearing the Machine assuring him she will stay with John as long, as she could.
"Sometimes one life, if it's the right life... That's enough. Goodbye, Harold."
Grace wrapped his hand in a handkerchief. Harold stayed motionless, when Grace caressed his cheek with tears in her eyes full of sympathy. She knew very well how it felt to mourn someone.
"Do you want to go home? I'll finish the painting tomorrow. We could do something different. Movie night, perhaps? Anything you want."
Grace was looking at him with so much love, Harold nodded, without a word and tried to manage a smile. It was probably enough, because she packed all her things in record time and they were on the way to Grace's house. The truth was obvious, Grace had him back, but Harold was damaged.
Grace switched on a television, Harold stared at Claudia Cardinale and Charles Bronson looking at each other. He listened to the famous score music from Once Upon a Time in the West.
"We should have seen Once Upon a Time in the West. Fewer subtitles."
Harold's eyes filled with tears. "Please, turn it off!" He raised his voice and hastily rushed to the bathroom, in the futile hope of escaping the haunting music. Harold was sure he'll never be able to see another western without thinking about John Reese. It took some time for him to leave the bathroom and gather some resemblance of control over his emotions.
Two months of Harold's stay in Italy, involved aimlessly following Grace. He knew very well the peaceful and quiet life was not for him. Harold needed to feel useful. Sitting in a park and people watching was horribly insufficient. John gave up his life for him. Harold wanted to have a chance to prove John's sacrifice wasn't in vain. He always felt like love was the most important thing in life. People could do anything if they have a person they love near them, but sometimes love wasn't enough.
"We don't need jobs, Harold. We need a purpose."
Oh, how right John was, in that place back in time?
"Harold?"
"Yes?" He replied lost in thoughts.
"There's a woman staring at us over there. I have seen her before." Grace nervously pointed in the direction of the park's entrance. It was a sunny day. The ideal weather for her drawing.
Harold looked at the serious features of Sameen Shaw across the distance. His throat closed. She didn't take a step towards them. Sameen was giving him the chance to back out. Without a second thought, he reached out his hand and she made her way to them.
Harold could see Sameen's hair had grown much longer since the last time he'd seen her. She appeared to have lost weight, but she masterfully masked this by wearing bigger clothes, although still black. Harold knew Grace would be surprised, Shaw didn't hug him or say anything. She was just looking at him from a safe distance. There was nothing to say. They both lost a friend. They both went through a hellish war. They were both the ones who survived and that thought haunted them.
"You two were pissing me off," Sameen finally broke the silence with a hard tone. "He knew your stupid plan and I didn't seen it soon enough. I could have helped him. You were both morons, ready to sacrifice yourselves at moment's notice."
Harold knew she needed someone to blame. He was more than happy to be that person for Sameen, because it was Harold's fault John and Root were dead. What amazed him the most, was the fact that Harold didn't feel like his world would crumble down around him, at first mention of John. He couldn't imagine he would ever talk with Grace about the amazing man he lost, but Shaw knew John. He could finally say something.
"Trust me, Miss Shaw; if I could change our circumstances, I would do it in a heartbeat. They would both be here."
Maybe she needed to hear him say the words. Shaw awkwardly hugged him, uncomfortable with the situation. She took a step back and cleared her throat. Sameen nodded in Grace's direction and then gave him a once over. "You look like hell, Harold."
"We went through one," he punctuated with a sad, little smile. "How can I help?"
"I need a sitter. I have a job to do. Don't know how long it will take and Lionel is not available. You're up for it?" Shaw smiled. Harold knew that dangerous tilt of her smile very well.
"Certainly. Anything else I could help you with?" For a few seconds Harold hoped the answer would be yes, but when he thought about working only with Shaw. He knew that he was not able to physically help with anything else. The absence of John on the other side of the ear piece would tear him apart.
"No. Who knows, maybe I'll bring you back a present."
"Just make sure, you will come back, that is more than sufficient for me," Harold ensured her calmly. "Bring him to Grace's place. I'm sure you know where I'm staying. The weather would change soon. I don't want him to run in the rain." Harold could earn money as a meteorologist for the local channel, thanks in part to his aching bones.
Sameen visibly hesitated. "You should know Bear lost some weight. The veterinarian said it's nothing. It took a while to persuade him to eat, he's alright now. He missed you."
Harold understood. Not just him, primarily John. "I'll take care of him."
"See you later. Grace," Shaw nodded again in Grace's direction and was quickly making her way out of the park.
"I always wanted a dog," Grace smiled. Again, Harold couldn't believe how much happiness she could radiate. She genuinely wanted to meet his canine.
When the moment finally came and Grace opened the door for Shaw that evening, the dog didn't even hesitate. He ran happily, barking through the hallway straight for Harold, who was standing nervously near the couch in the living room.
"If anyone tries to mess with you, he will eat them."
Harold didn't even see the women entering the room. He was kneeling on the floor, hugging the dog with all his strength and helplessly weeping, after weeks of keeping it inside.
Bear was the only thing Harold had left after John. "My good boy. Oh, yes. It's me." Harold let himself be covered in dog's saliva. When Bear's enthusiasm fell away, he sat patiently in front of Harold and looked around, clearly searching for someone.
"He's not here, boy. I'm sorry." Harold burst in tears again.
Bear whined in pain and then lay down with his head on Harold's knees. Harold didn't see Grace making her way to him. He felt the comforting palm on his shoulder and Bear's alert growling.
"Bear, stop!" Sameen ordered firmly.
The whole room was suddenly quiet. Miss Shaw knelt beside them and took Harold's face in her hands. "Look at me!" Sameen used the same commanding tone of voice for Harold. "I promise you. It will be alright. Are you listening to me, Harold? Give me a few weeks. I will make everything alright again."
"Miss Shaw..." Harold whispered brokenly. He couldn't stand the way she watched him. She was determinate to raise hell on earth. Under the layers of her carefully hidden emotions, Harold could see all her hurt feelings as well. Sameen masked them very well, but her eyes were full of unshed tears. "We already won." He reminded her gently. "And as much as I would love the scenario, you can't raise the dead. We just have to live without them."
"You do what you have to. Leave the rest to me. But wait for me, ok?"
Sameen obviously needed his confirmation. "I'm not going anywhere, Miss Shaw."
"Good. Now, introduce Bear to Grace. I gotta go."
She was gone a moment later. Harold kissed the fur of Bear's head and did as he was told. He introduced Grace to his canine.
When Harold first ate breakfast in the kitchen with Bear on the floor hastily wolfing down dog food, he turned with approaching steps and asked: "John, could you..." And there stood Grace.
"I... apologize. He..." Harold didn't know what was more heartbreaking. Grace's sad smile, or him unable to talk about the man who changed Harold's life.
"I know you lost him. You're screaming his name every night."
Harold averted his eyes to Bear. The canine stopped eating and watched him with intelligent eyes.
"The dog is helping you. You calmed down, when he went to you last night. He slept with you in the bed."
"We were bedfellows, when I acted as a professor Whistler," Harold explained. "But he spent nights with others as well." Half the time with John.
"I won't be around forever. I just need to know you can protect yourself once I'm gone."
"We can keep him, then?"
Harold wanted nothing more, but the truth remained the same. Bear was also Sameen's dog, her last connection to their work as a team and Root. It would be safer to have Bear in Italy. More convenient, but Harold couldn't take him from Sameen. At the same time, he was not able to imagine the moment he would have to give up Bear again.
Harold was coming up on almost three months in Italy. His routine changed, thanks to Bear. Half of his time Harold was following Grace, the other half, he spent with his dog. He loved every second of it, but at the same time Bear's presence made John's absence more visible.
Harold understood why Sameen asked him, if he was up to it. Every bath he prepared for Bear was breaking his heart, because John wasn't kneeling on the other side helping him. Every walk in the park reminded him of his walks with John. Once or twice he forgot John wasn't with him and almost addressed Grace with his name. He slept with Bear every night.
Time slipped by. Harold started to worry about Shaw. When she finally called, he sat down on the sofa with relief and closed his eyes for a moment to keep it together.
"Harold, you there?"
"Yes, Miss Shaw. Are you alright?"
"Fine." She mumbled. "I'll stop by tomorrow. You should know... I have someone with me."
Thank God she wasn't hurt. "That's alright. Do you need to lay low for a few days?"
"No. I'll see you tomorrow."
Sameen hung up before Harold could ask more questions. His routine with Bear was over. His last day with Bear was almost over too. As if on cue Bear plopped on the sofa beside him and dragged half of his body on Harold's legs.
"Is she coming back?" Grace was already used to Bear occupying Harold's space. The canine was never hostile, but he certainly didn't listen to her commands in Dutch and showed her on every occasion who is Harold's first choice.
"Yes. Tomorrow," Harold's voice sounded small and unsteady. He had no idea what to do. How to ask for Bear. He didn't want to hurt Sameen's feelings.
When Sameen came back alone later in the afternoon the next day, Harold spent some time on the sofa watching her with expectation and dread. She felt uncomfortable, when Bear greeted her with enthusiasm and then came back to lay by Harold's legs.
"Please, Miss Shaw, there is no need for stalling. I already packed his things." Harold's heart was breaking, but he calmly held hands with Grace, ready to face another challenge in his life. He would give up Bear. He had to. Shaw deserved to have Bear, because she didn't have anyone else. Harold would spend the rest of his days with Grace. Sameen with Bear.
"That's not why I'm here," Sameen informed him. "I need you to listen to me. I didn't know anything when you were at the hospital. I found out later, when you were already here."
"What did you find out?"
"The Machine. She came back online."
Harold's breath halted. "I see." And he did. He understood why the Machine did it, she probably stored a backup of herself in God's mode. Harold could understood the mechanics behind her action that Sameen clearly couldn't. And Harold could envisioned Sameen helping the Machine after his exit to Italy.
Pulling breath back into his lungs, Harold's eyes met Sameen's. "I am sorry, but I can't help you, Sameen." He couldn't imagine the scenario of not hearing John's voice in his ear. They had worked together for so long, he just couldn't picture the thought of going back to his old life.
"I don't want you to, and neither does she. The Machine bought you tickets here. You deserve to have your peace, but I found out something else last month."
"Alright." It wasn't like Shaw to be this cryptic, at all. She was more likely to be blurting out the truth and then see what would happen.
"Jeez. Stay here. Bear, volg!"
Harold understood it was time for him to finally meet the certain someone Sameen met and Bear would be in the way. It meant Harold and Bear obviously knew the person.
"Do you know who is she..."
Harold didn't need to hear Grace's question. "No idea. But I think I know them, whoever it is, and Bear too. Probably one of the Numbers." He heard Sameen locking the dog in the guest bedroom and then making her way to the front door.
Harold stood and prepared himself, to face whoever it was. When he saw the too familiar face of John Reese in a black suit standing in the doorway, his mind disconnected from his body. It was not possible. His mind was playing tricks on him. Harold couldn't shake off the stupor.
"Finch, you with me?"
It was John's voice. It was John's concern. It was John's careful tone. "Always, Mr. Reese." Harold breathed out unconsciously and watched in amazement, John Reese walking toward him.
"Detective Stills?" Grace smiled radiantly. "It's so good to see you again."
"You too," John whispered, but didn't take his eyes off Harold. He patiently waited for Harold to say something, but the former one couldn't. Harold's heart was beating erratically, his chest squeezing in pain and he needed to sit down or he would certainly faint.
"Harold?" John helped him on the sofa with a grimace of pain, kneeled beside him and without looking at Shaw, he whispered urgently: "Water with sugar."
She was back in a heartbeat and John pressed the glass to Harold's hand and helped him drink it.
Grace sat near Harold with alarm. "Are you alright?"
"Give him a few moments, Grace."
Harold let the glass go and with a painful grip he clutched John's hand. His brain was muddled, but Harold couldn't let go. Not for a second. He was lost inside his head, proceeding the information and letting go of John's hand was unbearable.
"It's alright, Harold. I'm here."
Harold wasn't aware of the palm Grace had between his shoulder blades. The most important contact in his existence was John's hand. When he finally understood, what it meant to have John in front of him again, his eyes started to fill with tears.
Harold wanted nothing more than to scream into John's face, how much he and the Machine played him. He wanted to yell, he would rather die than watch John be killed by government operatives, but in the end he couldn't even open his mouth.
"You need to stand up," Shaw wrapped his hand around John's torso and helped him to his feet. "Sit down before you fall over."
"Are you hurt, Detective? Do you need something?" Grace tried to be of some help as usual. Harold liked her for it even more.
"Would you... mind," Harold cleared his throat finally. He looked at John's pale face. "Please, take your clothes off."
"Don't do this," John warned him calmly. "I'm here. That's all that matters."
"Don't tell me what matters!" Harold angrily stood up. "You weren't on the roof watching someone dear to you be gunned down," he blinked to get rid of the tears. Harold knew very well John wouldn't take his words with quiet obedience.
"No, I was held in the vault because some jackass wanted to sacrifice himself. I called after you!" John stood rigidly in Harold's face. "Twice! First time ever, I called after someone to not leave me. And what did you do? You left us behind again. Just like with Greer! You can't protect people by leaving them! That's not how it works, Harold."
"And you can't sacrifice yourself for other people! I would rather die-" And the second Harold whispered the last word, his voice broke down and he was not able to finish the truth. He would rather die than watch John's death. He would rather die than live with Grace.
"I think we should give you some privacy." Sameen penetrated the silence with a hopeful look to Grace's direction, but the woman was only watching Harold. No one paid Shaw any attention.
"I asked..."
John interrupted Harold: "I'm not going to strip in your living room, Harold. I've had five bullets inside me. One in my right arm and the rest in the upper body. They tried to put another round of bullets into me, but Logan Pierce came in a chopper with some hired help."
Logan Pierce. Harold didn't like the man at all. Unfortunately, this time he would be glad until his dying days for the fickle billionaire. He listened to John's explanation.
"They took care of them, carried me inside where Dr. Enright and Megan Tillman already waited and transported me to the hospital. I barely survived. I didn't understand how they knew, until I talked with Shaw." John gave him a long look.
" Apparently Special Agent from FBI Augusta King called them and requested their help for the man in the suit. I don't remember any of it. I spent months at the hospital. It still hurts. You know how it is with gunshots." When the explanation ended, John just stood there looking at Harold, who watched him back.
"I hate when they do this," Shaw whispered angrily.
Sameen's words were the first thing that penetrated Grace's awareness. She noticed the ease in Harold's shoulders. The familiarity in their stare. They were comfortable enough to understand each other without words, and from Grace's point, it looked intimate.
"Well, sorry to interrupt staring contest, but I have to let the beast out," Shaw disappeared and in a next second, Bear almost knocked down John in enthusiastic greeting.
Sameen grabbed the dog by his collar and waited for John to sit in the armchair. Then she let Bear loose.
Harold felt his smile stretch all over his face, when he saw John's and Bear's happiness. They were all finally back together.
It took longer than everyone anticipated. Bear didn't want to calm down and when it finally happened, Shaw looked at the watch. "We should go."
Harold saw John's careful movements when he was slowly raising to his feet. It took him three steps to be under John's arm and with a hand around his waist, helping him. The action was so familiar, Harold didn't even think about it.
"Thanks, Harold," John drawled softly.
"Stay here." Harold looked at him pleadingly and didn't make any move to back away from him. As long as John was near him, Harold didn't have objections.
"The couch is small and a floor's not for me these days, Harold," one corner of John's mouth rose in a soft smile.
"You can have my bed." Harold replied without a pause.
"I don't think Grace would appreciate a new bedfellow."
Oh, of course. Harold shook his head. John would assume they slept together in the same bed. "We have a guest bedroom. Grace?" In his life, Harold hadn't made so many mistakes in one day. He expected Grace to back him up, when he blatantly asked John to stay in her house. Rude!
"I think... Detective Stills... would feel more comfortable in a hotel. We have a dog here. Bear could disturbed him in the night and you're not sleeping well these days."
Grace answered reluctantly and Harold could only stare at her.
"To tell the truth, it's Reese," John explained. "We should go."
"I'll leave Bear with you for tonight," Shaw informed Harold and Grace. "But I'll be back first thing in the morning."
Harold felt cold when John backed from him and went after the other ex-CIA agent. "John, please, don't leave!" he practically shouted in anguish and it finally dawned on him he could tell John's name out loud.
"John?" Grace whispered in disbelief.
"John Reese," the ex-CIA agent clarified with a nervous glance at Grace. John didn't understand why was his name so special, but before he could ask, Harold's carefully crafted mask began to slip off his face and John couldn't look away. The desperation screamed to John on some primal level and he knew he couldn't leave Harold like this. "I'll take the guest bedroom."
"Fine, I'm going." Shaw left the room and the house as well.
"I thought your name is Reese Stills," Grace was watching John with confusion.
"Stills was an alias, when we worked," John explained with apology in his voice. "I couldn't use my name. The bad guys could find us." John looked to Harold for cues.
"Grace knows about the Machine," Harold assured him.
Later that night, Harold was still as a statue in bed with Grace. She was reading a book and Harold couldn't gather the strength to talk to her. He listened to the pipes signaling John was still in the bathroom taking a shower. Harold felt Grace's eyes on him, but he wasn't strong enough to process what John's existence meant for his life.
"I know you want to go after him," Grace interrupted the silence gently. "I can't imagine what you must feel right now."
"He protected me with his body all these years. And in the end he made a deal with my Machine. I have to be always out of harm's way. I thought I will die, it was inevitable. I started all this mess, it was almost poetic. If I have to stop Samaritan, I have to give up my life. John..."
It was the second time Harold said his name tonight and he needed a moment to breathe through the pain in his chest. "...he and the Machine, they left me on the roof of a building, safe, while he was standing on the other one in my sight being outnumbered, shot down and killed for me."
Harold's voice broke down with tears. "I honestly don't know what to feel, because everything is too much."
Grace put down the book and squeezed his hand. "Maybe you should consider one thing, Harold. The reason I was so against him staying here." She held her breath for a second and then finally whispered: "In the middle of your nightmares, you're screaming for him not to leave you. The first night you were here, while you were asleep, you said you love him too much to let him die."
Harold watched her with an open mouth, his mind in a state of shock. And it didn't help at all the house was silent. John finished his shower. When Harold examined what he wanted to do, the only action he wanted to take, was go after John and see for his own eyes the scars on his body. He remained in bed, wide awake while Grace settled down, switched off the lights and fell asleep.
Harold couldn't close his eyes. The idea of loving John Reese... made him completely confused. He loved Grace all these years from afar, and he never felt like his life was going to change. Harold didn't feel attraction for people. His work was too important and he never had a moment of doubt. Harold loved Grace. He missed Grace. He knew he will never be with Grace again, but he never wanted to stray to someone else's arms.
Somewhere along the way of Harold's companionship with John, over the discussions about their Numbers, over sharing the doughnuts, coffee, tea and Eggs Benedict, Harold moved on and accepted the idea of spending the rest of his life with John.
Three months under one roof with Grace, sleeping in a comfortable bed, having all the time in the world for thinking, avoiding computers and spending the quiet moments with her, and Harold still didn't feel right and he finally knew why. Because he longed for a different life. Not the danger. Not the threat of Samaritan and Greer's people killing them. No. Just the ordinary days, helping people, listening to John's sarcastic comments about his everyday surveillance of the Numbers and making fun of Harold in his subtle way.
"Not every ex-soldier meets a reclusive billionaire."
Harold slightly twisted his neck to look at Grace's silhouette. Her chest was slowly rising and falling. He couldn't fathom how much he altered her life. First with his supposed death, than by his resurrection, and now with John in the same house. He put her in an awful position. Loving her and at the same time loving the man he worked with all these years.
Harold couldn't sleep, because no matter how much he loved Grace, John's presence was calling to him. He carefully maneuvered his battered body out of bed, for a moment he hesitated in the hall. There was no light in guest bedroom. John must have laid down to sleep. As much as Harold wanted to go after him, he must have respect for John's wishes. If he didn't want to show Harold the scars, Harold wouldn't force him.
He walked towards the kitchen in search of tea. Harold switched on a small light above the counter, located the Earl Grey, Grace preferred and made himself a hot cup. With John in his life, he was craving his favorite Sencha Green.
"Can't sleep?"
Harold almost dropped a cup on the floor, when he heard John's drawl from the doorway. "I should have known you wouldn't stay in bed." His mouth went dry, when he realised John was only in his sweatpants, his feet bare and his chest uncovered. Harold averted his eyes and tried not to look in John's general direction.
"You know, Harold, you preparing tea is something I can recognize by ear. It's hard to forget something you were listening to through the years."
"Sorry to disturb you. You need to rest." Harold put down his tea and gingerly sat down, gaze steadily on a kitchen table in front of him.
"Should I be worried that you can't look at me?" John went closer. He probably didn't think about his naked chest.
"Not at all."
"I would be a bit more reassured if you could look me in the eyes."
Harold almost forgot the slight hint of sarcasm in John's voice. It made him smile in the past, it meant John felt comfortable joking with him, but right now, he had to close his eyes and ignore the pain in his chest.
"I would... John, I have to ask a favor. I know I don't have any right, you already did so much for me."
And John replied: "Sure, Harold. Anything."
The idea of him not even hesitating made Harold feel worse. "I want..." No. Harold chose the wrong beginning, because it definitely wasn't anything he wanted. "I would like to ask you… to leave tomorrow." God, the idea of John leaving him again was breaking his heart.
"Is there a reason, why you wanted me here today, and why you're sending me away so quickly?"
"Unfortunately yes." Harold didn't want to explain his reasoning. He couldn't keep hurting Grace by John's presence. He had already done a lot of damage.
"The same reason why you can't look at me?" John insisted.
Harold obstinately kept quiet, while his heart was trying to leap out of his chest.
"The same reason why the pillow smells like you in the guest bedroom?"
"John, please, that is none of your concern," Harold looked at him with reproach in his eyes and he realised his mistake. John wanted to see his reaction, he asked the impertinent questions, just to make Harold lookup. When he did, Harold couldn't tear his eyes away. Not from John's face and certainly not from his naked skin. Nor from the still angry looking scars on John's chest. Oh God. How could he have survived that?
Harold's eyes filled with tears. He could imagine John laying on the ground dying, in pain, and alone. He had already seen him in a similar state, when agent Snow and his partner almost killed him. Harold wanted to spent the rest of his life, keeping John safe and out of harm's way.
"I... I'm sorry I have to insist on you leaving." His fingers were firmly holding the cup of tea as a lifesaver. He couldn't touch John. He didn't have any rights to, especially when Grace was sleeping in the next room. No matter what Harold told himself, he still couldn't take his eyes off John.
"Don't worry, I'll go," John whispered.
Harold tried to reassure himself that it was the right thing for both of them. "Will you be helping Sameen and the Machine?" He couldn't stand the idea of John working without him. Who will keep him safe?
"Eventually."
"Please, don't." He couldn't help himself.
"You're awfully demanding for someone who is no longer my boss," John smiled a little. "What's going on, Harold? You don't want me here. You don't want me working. What am I supposed to do then? I'm not very good at sitting on my ass."
"Something not life threatening would be preferable. You could find a hobby. We have a lot of money."
"I have a hobby. Shooting people."
"Any other hobbies not involving guns and danger? What about chess? No, it's rather pointless. How about private investigating? It could be your idea of fun and you would help people. The world is full of cheating spouses." Harold's heart clenched. He was one of them. He liked Grace, but his heart belonged to John.
"Alright. Stand up and repeat this to my face."
Harold's body trembled with tension, because he knew the challenging tone of John's voice. John meant business. He slowly got up and with a determination looked at his face. "What exactly do you want me to repeat?"
"You don't want me here."
Harold ignored the staring of John's gaze and said nothing. Once upon a time there was a much more important talk the day Harold met John.
"You left the government because they lied to you. I never will."
Harold spent years administering this rule.
"Why are you doing this, Finch?" John replied confused. "You know I could stay in Italy. I don't have anything better to do. I have to able to lift a gun first, before I go back to work with the Machine and Shaw. So why is it so important to be out of your life, when you want me here?"
"I..." Harold stuttered nervously, his thought in disarray. "I have my reason."
"And I want to hear it," John determinately took a step to Harold and continue to watch him.
"I can't leave Grace," he whispered with pleading eyes.
"I'm not asking you to."
"John," Harold's voice broke again. "I can't be near you."
"What is so wrong with me?" John asked tensely and held his lips in a tight line.
Harold swallowed with dry throat. "I can't be near you, because I am afraid I won't be able to ever let you go," he confessed helplessly. He never took his eyes off of John's.
"I have to stay here. I already hurt Grace too much. She knows how I feel about you. Apparently, I'm talking in my sleep."
"You're talking in your sleep only if you're having a nightmare."
Harold forgot how much John knew him. Thankfully the conversation eased John's worries and his shoulders as well. He looked much more approachable. Harold held his breath, when John dipped his head low and lightly pressed his forehead to Harold's. For a moment they both stayed like that.
With a sad sigh John back away. "I will go tomorrow. Goodnight, Harold."
Harold's trembling hands took the teacup to the sink. He didn't fancy a tea, and it was cold anyway.
The next morning when Grace and Harold stood hand in hand at the living room, while Shaw packed Bear's toys, Harold couldn't stop his eyes as they wandered John's frame. It would be the last time he saw John Reese and Harold wanted to be sure, he wouldn't be able to forget a single second.
When Sameen hugged him, Harold carefully extricated his hand from Grace and squeezed her back. "Please, take care of him, Miss Shaw. Keep him safe," he whispered into her ear.
"No promises, Harold. You know him."
Unfortunately, Harold did know John Reese. He would head into a danger, no matter the odds, if someone needed him.
John didn't even try to hug him and Harold was more than glad for it. He doubted he could pry his fingers from John's suit, when he had the first chance to held him in his arms. "Do I have to remind you to be careful, Mr. Reese?" Harold couldn't let him go without a word. He would stay on the other end of the room beside Grace, but to hold his tongue as well, would be too much.
"Always, Finch," John smirked.
John's words were so familiar, Harold couldn't stand the tension in his body. He firmly stared at John, all the while his heart was breaking. He had to try to keep it together. It would be over soon and in a few minutes, he would never see John again. He can certainly manage to keep it together long enough.
The tension was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Bear ran to it, madly barking.
"Harold." In a second John stood in front of Harold, his left hand holding a gun by his side, and his right touching Harold's side to be aware, where the man was standing. The situation was too familiar.
Sameen went to the door.
"What kind of assassin would ring the bell?" Grace asked calmly looking at their reaction.
Both men turned towards her. Bear's silence and Sameen's low voice indicated there was no threat at the door. She came back, scanned the ominous silence and informed them: "Taxi's here."
Harold sat on the sofa, completely exhausted. "Taxi," he repeated shakily. Of course she would order the ride to the airport. There was Bear to consider, she certainly didn't have a car here. It made sense, but his fearfully beating heart disagreed. They spent too much time in danger. They all saw threats in everything.
Before he could ask when she had time to order a taxi, Sameen was saying goodbye, taking Bear with her and Harold stared at John for a long moment. With a nod, John followed Shaw.
"I think we have to talk," Grace's body language spoke for her. She was exceptionally determinate to go through their discussion and didn't let Harold have any other choice then to accept.
"About?" he whispered.
"You love him. Do you think I would want you always thinking about someone else? I spent years asking God for miracle to have you back, but not like this. You're not looking at me the same way. I don't know what you feel for me..."
"Grace, I love you." Harold didn't hesitate.
"I know. But you were sitting here looking at John like he was your only reason to live. When you came back, I knew a lot of bad things had happened, and it wouldn't be the same between us. I know you love me, but I feel like...like it isn't enough."
Harold couldn't say a word.
"You were here all these months and I never saw any spark of life in you. You were just going with motions, never giving any hint if you liked something, hated something, like you were partially dead inside."
Partially dead. That described Harold's feelings right in that moment.
"I love you. I don't want you unhappy. And I don't want to be unhappy. My life here was good. I was content. Now that I know you're alive, I'm more than grateful, but you don't own me anything, Harold. As much as it pains me to say." Grace watched him with eyes full of tears. "I don't need you in my life. I lived years without you. I can do it again and be happy that you are somewhere in the world, making it a better place."
Harold stood up, heart still hammering. He couldn't believe her words.
"We both moved on, Harold. I have my drawing, and you have a family. You don't have to lose them because of me. I'm not asking you to do that. You should go after them."
In the past Harold would have protested, he would have fought for them to stay together. "Thank you."
Grace smiled. "Do you need help to pack?"
"That would be more than appreciated," his face spread into a boyish grin.
"Do you want to call them before they take off for New York?" she didn't understand his plan.
"No. I have to do a lot of things first. I have to plan building my next computer. Along with purchasing a building to use, and having it stocked up with dog food and toys," Harold whispered conspiratorially.
Four months after the supposed death of John Reese, Harold moved to New York. He put together a very powerful system and contacted the Machine. He wanted to be sure he could be off help if John was in danger.
Meanwhile Harold bought their old library building back, hired several companies to restore the furniture, and stocked up not only on dog food, but his precious books as well. He did a final check of the whole place and when he was satisfied with results, Harold asked the Machine to let the others know about him.
First one to arrive was Sameen. She took one look at him, the place and with a satisfied nod went back to wherever she was before.
Detective Fusco was delighted, to the point of hugging Harold and smiling happily from ear to ear. He promised to bring Bear later. The dog was currently at his place, because Sameen planned to work on surveillance of a Number through the night.
John was the last one, who appeared by the iron gate. Harold watched him hesitate.
"I should go," Lionel clasped his shoulder and meaningfully lifted an eyebrow. "Good to have you back, Glasses."
"Thank you, Detective," he mumbled automatically and hoped his heart wouldn't leap out of his chest. John still didn't take a step towards him, even though Lionel gave him a shove. Harold patiently waited.
"How..." John cleared his throat. "How's Grace?"
"Exceptionally happy, they offered her a part time ownership of the gallery, where she's sometimes having an exhibition," Harold answered calmly. Maybe it wasn't a clear explanation John wanted. "She's staying in Italy," he clarified.
"And you're here," John finally moved. He reverently looked at all the bookshelves, computer screens and see-through plastic bulletin board.
Harold didn't move, he knew John would eventually gravitate towards him. And he did.
"The Machine knows you're here," John stated.
"Yes."
"You left Grace in Italy."
"Yes." Harold breathed out with eyes full of hope. They wouldn't have to have a long conversation about what it meant. They knew each other too well. They could both see that Harold and Grace's separation was inevitable, from the moment John walked into her home in Italy.
John gave him a crooked smile. "Are you alright?"
"I've never been better." Harold unconsciously licked his dry lips. The tension was slowly killing him. He almost fainted when John pressed his forehead to his again. Harold hoped it was a permission to touch the man in front of him, because he couldn't stop his hands from holding John's suit jacket. He could feel himself shaking.
"John," Harold whispered, voice rasping on every word. "Don't do this to me again." This; stood for watching him die. "If I have to, I will stand beside you."
"Alright." John's arms finally sneaked around Harold to hold him closer. "Promise me the same."
Harold fractionally bend backwards to look into John's eyes. "I promise." And he meant it. They would no longer be sacrificing themselves for the other.
John slowly leaned down and hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself.
Harold held his breath. He closed the remaining inches and pressed his trembling lips to John's. The onslaught of warmth and want left him clutching the fabric on John's chest.
"Ehm," John painfully breathed out.
"Sorry," Harold tried to back away with his hands in the air, but aborted the move, when John didn't allow him to go far. He didn't want to hurt him more.
"I'm fine, Harold," John followed his lips and one of his palms settled on Harold's neck. "Trust me. I'm fine," he mumbled before halting Harold's fear by seeking another kiss. This time not hesitant at all, but devouring and all consuming.
Five months after all was said and done on the rooftop, where Harold supposedly lost John Reese, he had his life back. He was listening to John every day in his ear piece. He was again keeping an eye out for any danger heading John's way and he was helping John, Miss Shaw, detective Fusco and his Machine with Irrelevant Numbers. All the while, Bear was usually in his place sleeping near his feet.
Life couldn't be any better.
The end.