Choices
Harold's fingers were on fire as they raced along the keyboard. Actually, his entire body felt like it was on fire - literally and physically on fire - as he fabricated the evidence necessary to stay one step ahead of Donnelly.
Of the many misconceptions people tended to hold about him, perhaps the most common was that he was impassive, that he felt little affection. They mistook his natural reserve for apathy.
Nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, Harold knew himself to be a passionate man of strong convictions and deeply felt emotions.
And never more so than right now.
John's freedom had been within reach. Then Donnelly had declared him an enemy combatant, and Harold watched as the first layers of his firewall turned to dust. Despite all of his careful preparations, everything was falling apart.
A sick pit of anxiety had formed in his stomach, and had stayed there ever since.
He had no illusions about what would happen to John if Donnelly officially labeled him a terrorist. Harold had worked for government agencies before and he knew exactly what they were capable of. John would be subjected to enhanced interrogation techniques - he would be tortured. Beaten, water-boarded and ultimately sent to Guantanamo, where he would be lost forever. It took all of Harold's discipline to keep his fear in the periphery of his mind when it was threatening to overwhelm him.
He felt a small ache as John began to talk about "Howard French," his current employer. "A good man," is what John always called him. And despite his many mistakes Harold did consider himself a good man - a man trying to do penance for the errors of his past. But then so was John. They brought out the good in each other. They brought out the best in each other. Harold felt a fresh burst of loyalty towards the other man. It only strengthened his resolve. This was far from over.
His heart was racing and adrenaline was surging through his system. But he maintained his concentration as he continued to create documents and an electronic trail at the breathtaking speed necessary to corroborate John's story.
Harold held his breath as he listened to John talk about "Allison West' - his Jessica. John's pain was so palpable. He saw the life that he had given up - and the man that he could have been - with crystal clarity.
"It's funny how the choices you make change who you become."
That was one of their bonds, something that had helped bring them together. They both had paths not taken, choices they regretted. Their losses and their regrets were part of the unspoken kinship between them. In a way, they had become the salve to each other's wounds. And together they were slowly healing.
.
Donnelly was not relenting. Harold's contingencies continued to crumble.
Harold was an extremely self aware man. And so it was with no small degree of surprise that he now found himself wearing body armor, squeamishly handling a large gun and preparing to infiltrate a maximum security prison - three items on a short list of things he never expected to do.
And he realized that he was admitting something to himself as well: the lengths to which he would go - and the price he was willing to pay - to get John back.
He was placing himself at grave risk in order to rescue his friend. And he was doing it with the full knowledge that if something happened to him - if he was killed or captured - he was dooming all the future irrelevants. There would be no one left who understood the Machine's system, and countless good people would die.
He was choosing John over the lives of all the irrelevant numbers yet to be.
"It's funny how the choices you make change who you become."
There could be other operatives, other assets, but there would only ever be one John. And that changed everything.
Harold had learned to live with his decisions. He lived with a lot.
Once again the image of John - alone and in pain - suffering at the hands of some secret government torturer floated before Harold's eyes. He would never let that happen. Just the thought was more than he could bear.
So he would take this chance and he would pay this price. Harold picked up the unfamiliar weapon. He was ready. He may very well regret the outcome of his folly. But he would never regret his choice.
.
FIN
.
A/N: As we know, Harold never needed to storm Rikers, which was probably for the best. Although I would have loved to have seen the expression on John's face when Harold showed up wielding whatever kind of gun that was. I'm still decompressing from another intense episode. Reviews and comments are always welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading!