Author's Note: Hello and welcome to my first fanfic since April, and my first Person of Interest fic in over a year! I re-watched Season 4 this week and just had to write something. Hope you enjoy! :)
Lullaby
Footsteps behind him alert Harold to the fact that he's been sitting here with his chin cupped in his hands, staring at the blank page with its blinking cursor, for upwards of fifteen minutes.
He quickly types Question 1A, then twists in his chair to face Root.
"I'll be back soon," she says, waving Bear's leash at him. She leaves the subway car, and Harold listens as her footsteps retreat. She says something to Bear, and Harold hears Bear's excited whuff as he trots to the exit.
It's quiet now, down here in their hole in the ground. It's been too quiet for some time, since... for a while.
Harold types, just so the noise will make a dent in the silence. Question 1B.
His typing is slow, his word choices unusually uninspired.
He makes it to question 3B before he decides to stop and make himself a cup of tea. He turns the kettle on. As the kettle boils his mind wanders to dangerous territory, worries for his friends piling on top of each other, and so he checks on John.
The folding metal-framed bed was brought down here for emergency use—since John's terribly close call less than forty-eight hours ago, it's become very useful indeed. The bed sits lengthways against the wall. John is sleeping on his back, and even in sleep there are lines of tension on his face. He's wearing a white T-shirt and a coat, even under the duvet. It's very cold down here in the tunnel—John should probably be in a warm hospital or a safe house, but he wanted to be here, and Harold couldn't bring himself to say no. Harold checks that the setting is correct on the little electric heater, and tells himself it isn't an excuse to linger a moment longer to be sure John's chest is rising and falling.
Harold returns to the subway car just as the kettle clicks off. There are four mugs to choose from, all appearing identical to the casual observer—sturdy, plain white, simple handles—but Harold knows which one has 'MINE' scrawled on the bottom with a red permanent marker. He notices said mug is gathering dust and takes a moment to gently clean it with his handkerchief before carefully putting it back.
Question 4A, and he has finished his tea.
He isn't happy with question 4D, revises the wording.
Question 5B, Harold types. He stops when he hears someone approaching, near-silently. He turns. As Harold watches, John slowly lowers himself onto the thinly-padded subway bench that's bolted to the wall. He keeps his hands in his pockets to conserve the warmth.
"Bed's lumpy," he says by way of explanation.
Harold raises an eyebrow, asks, "And that old bench is an improvement, Mr. Reese?"
"I'd rather be here," John replies and shrugs mildly, looking almost... embarrassed?
Professor Whistler returns to his work.
He reaches question 5E much faster than he'd expected. His typing is faster now, more efficient, even as he keeps an eye on John using the reflection off of one of the monitors.
Question 6A; John's eyes begin to noticeably droop, as if the sound of Harold's typing is some hypnotic lullaby. Harold allows himself a smile at the thought.
6C—John's chin is resting on his chest.
By question 7A, John has fallen asleep. His breath is deep and even, what Harold can see of his face seems relaxed.
Professor Whistler uploads the finished assignment to the student intranet.
Harold smiles at his old friend as he drapes his own coat over him, and goes to fetch the electric heater.
THE END