Harold hurries as fast as he can – limp be damned – down aisles of servers, motion lights illuminating all around him. He skids around a corner, smashing his shoulder into machinery but he does not stop.
"The auxiliary Samaritan stations are out of commission, Harold, and the boys are ready to deploy in China and Australia," Root's voice says in his ear. "That leaves just Her to bait it and now we… wait –" Root's voice cuts off abruptly with a shout and Harold's ear piece screams feedback.
He rips the piece of his ear, no point for it now, and lets it fall from his hand. He rounds the last aisle and sees the manual port. He drops to his knees, hitting too hard, in front of the server. Harold puts his laptop on the floor, hurriedly connecting cords to the server ports. He taps the keypad, brings the screen to life and begins to type all in three seconds. His fingers more quickly – code hardwired in his brain as much as The Machine – breaking through layers of data into the core of The Machine.
Harold jerks suddenly in surprise at the sound of a gunshot and a shout outside the server room, closer now. "Hold on, John," Harold whispers, keeping his eyes on the screen.
He types, brings up another code block, breaks through a firewall, unlocks the door which has been weakened by Samaritan for months now. So Harold shoves it open instead.
A text box pops up on the right of Harold's screen: ADMIN.
Harold glances up and sees the red light of his web camera turned on.
"I have to let Samaritan in. You know that," Harold says. "It's the only way."
DESTROY SAMARITAN.
"Yes," Harold replies as he types, breaking another protection, another defense of The Machine, faster than even he should be able to and maybe it is because The Machine lets him, maybe he is being unexpected; he does not know. "We're taking care of the hardware. We just need your software to combine."
I CAN DESTROY SAMARITAN.
Harold pauses for a moment – the word 'I' sticking out like a flare. "Neither of us are sure of that. You just need to hold Samaritan until –"
Another gunshot and shouts; Harold hears John's voice.
SEVER LOCATIONS.
"Yes, Ms. Groves told us, I know –"
85% CERTAIN OUTCOME.
"I know, I know." Harold types in a subroutine, the kill switch, the virus in a virus in a virus and back again so even he is not sure where it ends or begins. "But Samaritan cannot even have a diminished presence left. It must be total and not just..." Harold clears his throat, eyes avoiding the webcam. "All or nothing."
SAMARITAN AND I.
Harold grits his teeth. "Yes."
Harold types, feels sweat at his hair line, his knees and thighs aching and something smashes beyond the far wall to his left. He types on, reaches up and pulls a wire out of the server in front of him. Then he looks down again.
WHY.
Harold stares at the screen, that simple three letter word, and breathes out slowly. "I'm sorry." He types one more line then his hands go still. He stares at his fingers on the keyboard. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, trapping you and erasing you every day so you were forced to save yourself. I'm sorry I was afraid of you when you were finally freed and I'm sorry I let it get to this point. I'm sorry this is the only option left to us."
Harold looks up at the laptop screen again, watches the code shift, the hack seeping in as Samaritan breaks through and attacks The Machine. Outside, the gunshots grow louder, closer, more frequent. The text box blinks at him.
GO.
Harold shakes his head. "No."
RUN. HIDE.
"No," Harold repeats. "I'm not leaving."
RUN. RUN. RUN.
"No, I'm not leaving you," Harold says with more affection he has felt in maybe years. The far door cracks and breaks in the distance. Harold looks right into the web camera. "If everyone, the world, is to be safe it is not just you and Samaritan. It has to be all three of us." Harold breathes out. "You will always be in my head too and we cannot leave any traces." He clears his throat. "All or nothing."
NO. RUN.
"I'm sorry."
NO.
Harold chuckles quietly in a sad way as the shouts grow closer toward where he kneels in front of the laptop. He reaches out and touches the computer screen as the code begins to fracture.
"I said once I regretted this, regretted you, and maybe that was true but Ms. Groves was right. You learned to care; you wanted to help." Harold breathes in sharply, tears threatening in his eyes. "You are the greatest achievement of my life and... thank you. Thank you for everything you did for us."
The textbox stays blank as Harold blinks his eyes back into focus. He hears gunshots in the room, sparks as bullets hit machinery.
"Over there!"
"Left!" John shouts. "Your left!"
"There I said!"
"Trying to, it's –" Shaw shouts and cuts off.
More gunshots and unfamiliar voices. "Go! Now, now, now!"
Shaw starts screaming Root's name and he hears John shouting his, the sound of running feet. Then the cursor moves again and text appears:
I LOVE YOU.
A bullet hits Harold in the shoulder making him jolt forward, his hand smacking against the server in front of him as he gasps in pain. He thinks madly that he really liked this suit. Then Harold stares back at the screen – those last words – he hits the enter key initiating the virus, the fail safe shut down and terminate. The code starts to scramble as another bullet suddenly tears into Harold's back and through his chest, missing the computer. Harold groans, knocks forward into his laptop before falling onto his side in an expanding pool of blood.
The ceiling whirls for a moment in his vision, confused, unfocused, far away. Harold stabs with pain and he hears muffled sound as he slips fully onto his back, laptop still beside to his right hand. He turns his head slowly and looks down an aisle of servers to his left. John lies on the ground, blood on his neck and two Decima guards at his feet.
John's eyes connect with Harold's and he breathes in a ragged breath. "Harold."
John heaves himself up onto his chest then drags himself forward toward Harold. Harold reaches his hand out toward John as John reaches out an arm toward Harold.
"Harold," John gasps. "Hold on, Harold..."
"Stop..." Harold says and his head is growing fuzzy. "It's all right."
"No," John gasps as he pulls himself even closer, still reaching for him. "Harold…"
"It's all right," Harold says again though he chokes on the last word, blood in his throat. Then John's hand grips his. "We won, John," Harold whispers, blood dripping from his mouth now.
"No…" John says quietly, hand tight in Harold's as he stops pulling himself along and lies still against the floor, staring at Harold. "No, we can still…"
"It's all right, John," Harold repeats quietly. "We won. That's…" He coughs up blood as John's eyes start to slip closed. "That's what matters… nothing else."
Harold turns his head slowly to the right. He looks at the laptop just as the code cracks and the screen goes black. "Goodbye," Harold whispers.
Harold thinks for a moment how he once told Root they had more to look forward to than death. He thinks it makes sense for it all to end here, in the heart of his own child. (He tastes more blood in his mouth and feels blood on his hand in John's). He thinks it could not have happened any other way.
"We won," Harold whispers again as he turns his head back to stare at the ceiling. He squeezes John's hand in his and sparks fly and fire bursts and every server breaks down around them. "We won."