Chapter 01

Harold couldn't even express by words how he felt the moment the doors closed behind him on the roof. Earlier that week he said goodbye to Root. She was killed in the process of saving him. They didn't have a chance to grieve properly. The risk of ending up like Root was too great. Danger was waiting for them behind every corner.

He said goodbye to his Machine few minutes ago. She would sacrifice herself for the greater good. She did everything to protect humanity, as he had patiently taught her and she would destroy Samaritan for good.

Harold had no idea where Sameen Shaw, or detective Fusco currently were, he could only hope they were both somewhere safe. The missile was on its way to destroy the building. They couldn't be anywhere near. At least he hoped the Machine would warn them and help in any way.

He grabbed the railing on the stairs and stopped thinking about the missile. His focus needed to be on the stairs and how to climb down them with his limp, when every step was spreading pain through his hips. He didn't want to think about the wound in his abdomen. It was bleeding and hurting.

Harold focused on the stairs. He had to managed several floors and get to safety. It was his mission given him by John. He needed to get help. He needed to...for a moment, Harold hesitated. His thoughts strayed to John, to their last conversation on the rooftop.

"Saving one life at a time seemed a bit anticlimactic. But then I realized sometimes one life, if it's the right life, that's enough."

The big roar of an explosion made Harold sink to the floor. Harold's face crumpled in agony. It was not supposed to be that way. He had lost John forever now, lost the man who was so precious to him. Harold would rather he had given up his life for John instead.

Harold's eyes were slowly filling with tears. He looked at the blood stain on his vest. It was steadily spreading through the parts of his suit. He carefully laid down with his neck screaming in pain. He felt tired. They already saved the world. Nobody would care about them. If they lived or died, it won't make a difference for people around the world.

Harold closed his eyes in resignation. He didn't want to live in a world where John Reese was dead. His friend, his... everything. Because that was what John had become to Harold, his everything.

He felt his phone vibrating in his pants' pocket. He guessed it would be Sameen informing him about her escape and that of detective Fusco. Making sure Harold was alright and wanting to know what happened to John.

Harold couldn't talk. Not when the pain of losing John was so crippling. Sameen didn't process grief as other people, but he didn't want to be the one to tell her about John's death. Sameen had already lost Root.

Harold listened to his shaking breath. In his mind's eye, he could see John on the other roof, talking to him through his earpiece. It was not the way Harold wanted to remember John. He focused on John in their earlier years, his cheerful tone. Witty remarks, John's small smile and his sparkling eyes. Harold wanted to die with the image of John Reese being happy and content.

"Harold..."

Harold ignored the insistent voice near him. He understood why John didn't want Harold to drive to him, when he was dying from a gunshot in a parking garage. John didn't want to harm him, didn't want to hurt people by seeing him like that. Harold wanted to die alone, not with Sameen. If he could choose, he would die by John's side.

"Harold, damn it, look at me!"

Harold knew the furious tone of his friend. Sameen's default emotion was anger, sometimes simmering underneath the calm words, but most of the time manifesting in biting and vicious remarks.

He grunted in pain, as she ripped his vest and shirt open and jostled him. "It is alright," he whispered, so tired and content to give up.

"Why the hell didn't you go down? You were suppose to be there twenty minutes ago. We need to get you to the hospital."

"We did everything we could. Now it's time to leave," Harold's eyes were still closed as he thought about John. He could be with John again, in a few minutes.

"You're not dying on me, Harold!" she shouted at him forcefully. "Reese..."

Harold tried to stop listening the moment Sameen spoke John's name. The amount of grief and agony was unbearable. His throat tightened with unshed tears. He wanted to curl into the ball and finally die. Harold had already gave up enough for the humanity. He lost Nathan, his best friend. He lost Grace, his first love. He lost his colleagues, one of them Arthur, who unintentionally helped to build Samaritan. He found a new family for himself - John, Bear, detective Carter, detective Fusco, Sameen, Root. Joss was dead, Root was dead and now John.

John, who... Harold's body started to shake with cold.

"He's going into shock. I need the helicopter now. Where the hell are you, John?"

Harold's thoughts were muddled. He opened his eyes. Sameen looked pale, full of concern. He wanted tell her it was not a bad thing for him to die. It should have happened a long time ago. If Greer's men killed him several months back, John would have still been alive. The world around him started to turn dark, but few seconds later, the pain woke him up.

"Stay with me, Harold."

"I'm... sorry she died... because of me," Harold could hardly breathe through the pain, but he saw Shaw frozen with his words. "This war... caused us enough."

"Harold, don't do this. You'll be fine," Sameen mumbled.

"I don't want to be, Ms. Shaw," he watched her calmly. "Not without him." He closed his eyes and finally succumbed to the darkness.

Harold could on some distant level hear Sameen's shouts. He realized she was turning his head and stuffing something into his ear. He heard John's voice. It calmed him down. He knew that they would soon meet again.