A/N: When I received nemo's request for a hurt/comfort story I wasn't sure I should try it. It's not really in my comfort zone, and there are many brilliant hurt/comfort stories out there already. But nemo asked me to accept it as a challenge, and I do find a good challenge irresistible. Even so, this is not exactly the story I was asked for, and I'm not sure where it came from. (Sorry, nemo!)There were so many times when I thought this would never see the light of day, and I would just finish it for myself. But ultimately I think the story has its moments and I ended up wanting to share it after all. Just to be clear, the last chapter heads into some modest and non-explicit Rinch/slash territory.
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Meant For This
Chapter 1
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Something was very wrong with his partner, and John was having no luck at all getting Harold to talk about it. His friend was skilled at covering his distress, but John knew the other man's expressions and gestures as intimately as his own, perhaps more so. The pain that seemed to come now with every movement was visible in Harold's eyes. But John's questioning glances were met with warning looks, and he knew better than to pry. Still, it was hard for him to watch the proud man suffer.
As amicable as they had become, Finch still had parts of his life that he kept very private, and John accepted that - up to a point. But as Harold withdrew into the pain he seemed to be withdrawing from his friend as well, and John had the unsettling feeling that his partner was slipping away from him. He was greatly concerned about Harold's health, and he also missed his friend and the camaraderie they had developed.
"What if you could be there in time?"
Well, he was here, damn it, and John was anxious to help in any way he could. But Harold continued to hold him at a distance, and stubbornly soldiered on with their work. He wasn't even attempting to disguise his misery anymore, and the atmosphere in the library - once so convivial and relaxed - was becoming increasingly strained.
They were in the middle of a case when, without explanation, Harold rose and reached for his coat. He stopped for a moment and leaned against the desk, closing his eyes as he steeled himself against the pain. John winced just watching him, but tried to sound nonchalant.
"Going somewhere, Finch?"
"I have an appointment, Mr. Reese. It's a personal matter."
John hesitated. He recognized the warning tone in his friend's voice, but he was getting desperate. They couldn't go on like this.
"What's wrong, Harold? Please, what can I do?"
"You can work the case. I'll be back shortly,"
John sighed. How do you help someone that stubborn?
Fusco was trailing the number, so John went to the computer and tried to dig into her background, but with little success. His mind kept returning to Harold, and the agonized look on the man's face as he left the library. He adjusted the keyboard. Something had worked its way underneath and gotten stuck there.
Hale Spinal Clinic
644 East 70th Street
New York, New York 10065
John stared at the business card. Following Harold to his appointment was a really bad idea. And even as he tried to talk himself out of it, he already knew he was going to do just that. Fear and frustration at the breaking point, he headed out the door.
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The foyer of the Hale Spinal Clinic more closely resembled that of a luxury rental property than a medical facility. John recalled how uneasy hospitals made his friend and wondered if that was why Finch had chosen it. The puzzled but courteous staff allowed Detective Stills to have a look around, and he took the elevator up to the patient floors. Now that he was here, John wasn't exactly sure what he hoped to accomplish. No matter what he discovered, nothing would change unless Harold opened up to him. Still, this was a definite improvement over doing nothing. As he searched for Dr. Hale, John wondered if he would be any more forthcoming if he were in Harold's position. Probably not, he quickly concluded. In his own way he was as private as Harold. And invading his friend's privacy - John had to admit - was not going to encourage any more trust between them. He turned to leave with a renewed resolve to convince Harold to confide in him.
But as he rounded the corner he stopped dead in his tracks at the stunning sight of Harold - wearing a hospital gown and being pushed in a wheelchair by a distracted-looking orderly. He knew he should leave but somehow he was rooted in place. Harold Finch, in his impeccably tailored suit, was a commanding presence. But right now his friend just looked frail and alone, and every instinct told John not to leave him.
But before he could do anything, Harold saw him there and looked directly into John's eyes. John watched the color rise in the mortified man's face, and for the first time his partner looked at him with outright anger, fury even.
"Mr. Reese, get out of my business!"
John stared a moment longer, just long enough to watch his friend's expression turn to one of hurt and betrayal. He fled.
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John approached the library the next day with a sense of dread. Something about hell and good intentions flitted through his mind. He had acted out of genuine concern for the other man, and in the process made a huge mistake. And now, added to his worry about Harold, was the very real possibility that his friend would consider this breach of trust unforgivable.
Harold looked up as he approached and silently motioned him over. John searched the other man's face, afraid of what he would find there. But Harold was looking at him kindly, and - John thought - a little sadly.
"Mr. Reese, how much do you know about spinal fusion surgery?"
John caught his breath and shook his head slightly. They were venturing into new territory here.
"It's performed, well, for a number of reasons. One reason occurs when the vertebrae are damaged to the extent that one's spine becomes unstable. The disc is removed from between the vertebrae and replaced with a bone graft harvested from the patient's pelvic bone. Metal plates are then screwed into the area to provide additional stability. In some cases - in my case - the incision is made in the throat, and the esophagus is retracted in order to provide access to the damaged vertebrae."
John couldn't speak. The fact that Harold had just described his own experience in such clinical, detached detail only increased John's sense of horror of what the man had endured. And he was beginning to understand that his friend's reluctance to talk about his tribulations went well beyond privacy issues.
"Because the fusion immobilizes parts of the spine that were intended to move, it places additional stress on the surrounding vertebrae and increases the rate of spinal degeneration."
The words hung in the air.
"I'm sorry, John. I know you were acting out of concern for me, and I apologize for my reaction. I just wasn't prepared to see you at that moment. But the truth is that I would have told you soon anyway. You see, I need additional surgery that will necessitate my absence for several weeks, possibly longer. I need to ask you to continue our work with the detectives while I'm away."
John was incredulous. Was that it? Did Harold really think he was going through this alone?
"Harold" - he began, but the other man quickly cut him off.
"It's all been managed. I've arranged for highly qualified people to provide whatever care I require."
It occurred to John that these must have been the circumstances of Harold's first surgery, surrounded by a polite and well-paid medical staff - and completely alone. He understood all too well that his friend was a private man, and proudly independent one. But the idea that Harold was preparing to face this latest challenge all alone was heartbreaking. Every part of John rebelled against that thought.
"This is not your burden to bear, John."
The words were spoken firmly. But in the pause that followed Harold looked at him so wistfully that for a moment John couldn't speak. And when he did, all the emotion that had been building up over these past difficult weeks came pouring out in his words.
"Harold, did you really think that I would let you go through this by yourself? That I would want to be anywhere else?" He fought to keep his voice steady. "You're not alone anymore. I will be there for you."
He spoke passionately, defiantly - daring his friend to challenge him on this. Somehow he had to find the words to convince Harold that he needed to be there for him, and he was not about to back down.
But in the end he was girding for a fight that never came.
Harold observed him silently for a moment before lowering his eyes and saying quietly, "Thank you, Mr. Reese. I believe I would like that very much."
And as he registered the relief in the other man's voice, John realized that he had offered his friend exactly what he wanted all along, but hadn't known how to ask for.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! The next chapters are in pretty good shape and should be up fairly quickly. As always, your thoughts and comments are most appreciated.
