It was 2:30 in the morning, and Harold Finch was still awake. He wasn't even tired. Wide awake, he stared at the computer screen intently, determined to fix this bug that was causing the Machine to malfunction.
He normally stayed up this late, reading books, or writing in his journal, but tonight he was feeling anxious and stressed.
And tonight, he had company.
Reese usually didn't stay at Finch's place this late, but he felt obligated considering this issue concerned them both.
"Mr. Reese, I insist you go home and get some rest!" Finch told him for the 14th time that night.
But Reese refused, telling him he'd stay and keep him company until the bug was fixed. But Harold was growing increasingly frustrated, as this bug did not seem to be able to get worked out. He was trying to fix the problem of the screen glitching and becoming unreadable every time a number came up. He would only just barely be ale to make it out, but it was becoming increasingly worse as time went on.
Frustrated, Harold leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"Any luck, Harold?" Reese asked, yawning.
Finch shook his head. "No."
The apartment was silent except for Bear's light snoring from his bed across the room. Sighing, Finch stood up and wandered over to his large bookcase, running his hands across his countless number of books before randomly picking one out titled "Le Fantome de la Opera"
"It's so hard to find original copies of this book..." he said out loud, mostly to himself. "Luckily, I can read French...it's such a fascinating story..." He pulled the book out of the shelf, but something dropped from between the books and onto the floor. He frowned and picked it up. It was a small, metal key.
He frowned and examined it.
"What is that, Harold?" Reese asked, noting the small man's concern at the tiny object.
"It's a key...but I...didn't think I still..." Finch trailed off, his eyes wide. "Oh my..." He seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the tiny key that he held so delicately in his hand.
Reese raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so it's something special then. If this is a relic from your mysterious past, Harold, I'd like to know about it."
Finch didn't seem to hear him.
"My...my friend...he never returned. He never returned."
Reese frowned. "Who?"
Finch walked over to the computer, still staring intently at the silver key. He looked sad, and miles way.
"You wouldn't believe me if I tried to tell you, John. He showed me the world...the whole wide universe, Mr. Reese, he showed it all to me. I-I thought I had lost this key..."
Wondering how much Finch had to drink, Reese stood up and cautiously approached Finch.
"How 'bout you sit down, Harold." Finch shook head.
"What was his name? Your friend?"
Finch laughed sadly, still not looking at his confused friend, keeping his obsessive gaze fixed on the key. He didn't answer, only continued shaking is head. He walked back to his bookshelf and put the key on the highest shelf he could reach, standing on tip-toe. He smiled to himself, as mysterious as usual as Reese watched him, mystified at his friend's strange behavior towards that little key and is mysterious friend.
Reese knew better than to persist with questions. Without another word, Finch sat down at his computer and began working away. After another ten minutes, he sighed in relief.
"I think I've found the problem. Much easier to fix than what I had thought. You can go home now, Mr. Reese, this won't take me long."
Reese stood up, yawning. "If you're sure, Finch. Make sure you rest well tonight."
Finch smiled. "Yes, thank you, I will. You too."
John opened his mouth, wanting to try and get information out of Harold about his mysterious "friend", but decided against it, wanting to get some sleep. Bidding Finch a good night, he left the apartment and headed home.
Back in Finch's apartment, he felt years younger, as the memories of his brief travels with his friend, only known as the Doctor, came back to him again.
And of that blue box that the Doctor called his "TARDIS".
Harold was thirteen years old when he met him.
He had a crush on this girl. Her name had been Mary. She was a pretty, smart girl that loved books. Shy and awkward, Harold had been terrified of talking to her, but convinced himself to be brave. Tripping over his own tongue, he could barely utter out his own name before her friends came up and started laughing at him. Pretty soon, a couple of football players started shoving him around.
"See you later, bug-eye!" they laughed as they walked away. Mary had felt bad for him, but didn't say anything. She walked away with her friends, only sparing him a pitying glance.
Humiliated, Harold walked home, his head hung, muttering angrily to himself and willing himself not to cry. The street had been quiet, so when he heard the loud wha-oh! wha-oh! it startled him. He looked around and could hardly believe what he was seeing.
Something was literally materializing across the street right before his eyes. It was a blue box, about the size of a telephone booth. Startled and curious, he crossed the street, studying the strange object with wide eyes. Yes, that's exactly what it was- a dark blue telephone booth.
The doors swung open, and a man stepped out. He had ruffled brown hair and a brown, pinstripe suit with red converse shoes. He was very tall. Startled by the man's appearance, Harold just gawked at him.
"Oh, hello!" the man said cheerfully at the sight of the teenage boy. He was clearly British.
"It...seems like I'm in the wrong place...right. Okay. Well, anyway, ah, yeah. I should probably...go..."
He frowned and scratched his head, looking around at the quiet streets of New York. He turned to his blue box.
"Why'd you take me here old girl?" he murmured.
Mustering the courage to speak up, Harold choked out, "That box just appear out of thin air. How did it do that?"
The man blinked in surprise, but looked pleased by Harold's question. He grinned, looking excited.
"It's a ship. Travels anywhere you like. All of time and space, anywhere in the great big universe, or anytime in history. It's a time-and-relative-dimension-in-space. TARDIS for short."
Harold frowned. He had enough teasing for one day, and just found the man's attempt at making him feel like a child irritating. If he couldn't get a straight answer out of the strange man, then he'd examine the blue box himself. Pushing past him, Harold opened the doors to the box and stepped inside. He cried out in surprise when he saw the inside.
"It-it's bigger! On the inside! It-it-"
He was at lost for words. What kind of magic trick was this? He stepped inside. It wasn't an illusion, it was actually bigger on the inside than on the outside. The man laughed.
"You should see what this old girl can really do," he said, walking inside and over to the large console that stood in the middle. Harold looked around, hardly being able to believe his eyes.
Speechless, Harold walked up to the console, examining it carefully. The man watched him, smiling at his curiosity.
"Pick anywhere. Any place in the universe, any place in history."
Harold looked up. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Can I see the stars? Can you take this ship up to the stars?"
He immediately felt foolish, and blushed. What was he thinking?
The Doctor grinned. "Of course! What kind of ship would this be if it couldn't see those beautiful stars? The TARDIS will protect us from the vacuum in space, and the heat they give off. You'll love it, they're beautiful! Allons-y!"
He said this all very quickly. He flipped a lever, and after pushing a couple buttons, the TARDIS make the whao-oh! wha-oh! sound again. The whole ship shook, and Harold gripped the railing for support. After a moment, all was still.
Had they really gone up to space?
The Doctor ran over to the doors and flung them open, motioning excitedly for Harold to come look. Feeling a little scared, the young boy cautiously approached the doors and peered out.
They were in space! Actually in space! Before them was a giant ball of bright flame, some thousands of miles away. It was terrifying and beautiful at the same time.
"This is what you would call the North Star," the Doctor explained. "It's been burning for...oh...four billion years now? Isn't it a beauty?"
Harold nodded in awe. He couldn't believe it. Just ten minutes ago, he was being bullied and made fun of. Now he was staring at a star, up in space, in a box that was bigger on the inside than the outside.
"What was your name?" The Doctor asked.
"Harold...Finch. Harold Finch," he murmured, still awe-struck.
"Well it's nice to meet you, Harold Finch. I'm the Doctor."
Harold looked at this strange man. "Do you travel all the time?"
"Yup. I travel all around this big old universe, saving planets, meeting strange new creatures..."
"Creatures? You mean, like aliens?"
The Doctor laughed. "Aliens. Yeah, I suppose so."
"Could I...could I see? The aliens?"
The Doctor looked down at him and grinned wider. "I'd be honored to show you."
He got serious then. "But what I do isn't all fun. It's not always...good. It's dangerous, it's scary, and sometimes people get hurt. Do you understand that?"
Harold nodded, and the Doctor knew he understood. This little boy was smart, and there was a reason why the TARDIS had taken him to this quiet street of New York City, rather than the Medusa Cascade like he had wanted.
This boy needed excitement in his life.
From there, the Doctor showed Harold the beautiful, scary, and wonderful universe. Aliens, other planets, baffling technology...it was all real. As they traveled, Harold never even spared a thought towards his family, or the few friends he had back home. This life was too good to be true. But Harold did get worried when, three weeks later, they returned back to the quiet street in New York City.
"We've been gone so long...my mom will be worried," he said anxiously as they returned to the same spot the Doctor had originally picked him up at.
"Oh, I don't think so," the Doctor said reassuringly. "This is precisely 2:36, five minutes after I picked you up. You'll be a little late getting home, but that's all."
Harold grinned then, and hugged him, happier than he had ever been in his entire life.
"Thank you," he said quietly. The Doctor smiled.
"Of course!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver key.
"Here. Take this. It's a key to the TARDIS. Frequent Flyer privilege."
Harold grinned, lost for words. But his face fell when he realized what this meant.
"Will you come back?"
"Of course! I don't just say goodbye to my friends forever. I'll be back, definitely."
With that, he gave a last wink at the young boy. They said their goodbyes, and the Doctor walked back into his TARDIS. Harold watched as it disappeared.
That was the last time Harold Finch saw that man.
But, he was not the same boy that he was before he met the Doctor. Before, he was shy, awkward, scared, and had little self-confidence. Now he was ready to take on the world. He was smart...no, he was brilliant. And he wanted to help people, just like the Doctor.
He waited for him to return, but he never did. So, at age fourteen, he started brainstorming ideas for the Machine.
Harold smiled sadly to himself as he sat at his computer desk. He wasn't angry at the Doctor for never returning, but he was definitely sad. How could he have forgotten that amazing time?
Sighing, he patted Bear on the head, and walked up to bed, suddenly feeling very tired. As he closed his eyes, he heard a noise, similar to a leaf blower almost...but it was the middle of winter, and there was almost a foot of snow on the ground. It didn't make sense.
Wha-oh! Wha-oh!
Harold opened his eyes, and smiled.