Reese sat alone in the library, staring silent at dull black computer screens. Even with Finch safely recovered from the clutches of Vigilance, everyone was still on edge. It had just been Reese, Shaw, and Root for the past couple of weeks. Fusco was keeping a low profile since the Camera Incident at the station. Finch just said he wanted to get away for a while. It had been quite a while.
He left New York; Reese knew that much. And all that searching and fighting to find him just for him to leave again made Reese feel dejected and alone. Sure he worked with Root and Shaw and was even warming to them, but they weren't his best friend.
Sitting in that chair even felt wrong. Reese kept half expecting to look up and find Finch staring at him impatiently, because there was work to be done! And when that didn't happen, the empty feeling in Reese's chest grew deeper. Where are you?
Reese slouched back in the chair and glared at the monitors. They stared back like gaping, black maws. The clock ticked on.
There was a light tap of leather shoes on the floor, a familiar uneven shuffle. As it hit Reese's disbelieving ears, he flicked his gaze to the doorway.
"Harold?" He still couldn't believe it. It felt as though Finch had been gone for years instead of weeks. But here he was, out of the blue, in his usual impeccable suit and tie. He looked a little tired, a little rough around the edges, but he looked…okay. He seemed to be okay.
"John," was the reply.
Reese got to his feet out of impulse, both to give up the chair and see if Finch really was okay, as he appeared. Finch's eyebrows drew together in concern as Reese stepped before him. Reese looked partially devastated, partially relieved. He looked very tired.
"I realize it was unfair of me to jet off as soon as you rescued me, but…I needed to—"
"You don't have to explain. I know."
"How have you fared without me?"
"We've managed. But it's better to have you here."
Finch nodded his appreciation. They were both silent for a few moments, until Finch pressed a light kiss on Reese's cheek. Reese turned to look at him, slightly puzzled, wondering why-did-he-do-that and at the same time of-course-he-did-that.
"I'm sorry. At times even I find that words don't suffice," Finch mumbled.
"No…sometimes they don't," Reese agreed.
"It's just that," Finch began, "when I met you, you needed me more than I needed you. Well now the roles are reversed—no, they've levelled. Our lives are a strange symbiosis of saving each other over and over. As long as we're both alive, it'll stay that way. Mutual need is not an ideal basis for friendship, or even a healthy one, but I've decided that I don't really care.
"You see, Grace is going to live the rest of her life sad that I am dead, but knowing that I am dead. Having that closure. As for me, I'll never have closure. I'll always know she's out there, and I'll never be with her again.
"So I need you. Not because you replace her or make me forget her, but because you remind me why it is that I let her go. You remind me that there is still good in this world, and people can change. Including myself. My biggest failing with Grace was that she knew me, but she didn't really know me. And I don't want to make that mistake again. You're the only one left that knows, and I trust to know, who I am. You're important to me. I want you to know that."
Reese stared at Finch for a while, and he wondered how he ever felt alone. For a minute, he didn't know what to say, but then he remembered that, at times, words didn't suffice.
So he pulled Finch close and held him like that for a long time.