"It's been a good year," Harold asserted with a sharp nod.
"Sure has," John replied. "Kinda wish it could've gone on longer."
"These past few months have been… frantic, and stressful, and… it's been quite the balancing act, trying to get everything done without letting anyone down. Many times I felt ready to give up; sometimes it felt quite impossible."
"Tends to happen when you expect too much of yourself."
"It's hard not to. There is so very much in my life to make up for… so many mistakes I've made, for so long. A year and a half ago, I was… basically just treading water. I was such a mess, John, you don't even know - ah, well, that is, of course you know what it's like to-"
"Harold," John murmured, dismissing Harold's hasty self-correction.
"Yes. Well…" Harold took in a deep breath. "When you look at the past two years - well, to be perfectly honest, it's been going on much longer than that. But last year in particular, it felt like I couldn't do anything right. I had all the info, I had the skills, the resources, but… I was letting everyone down. Letting myself down. And it wasn't until I sought you out that things started falling into place. Before that… sometimes… it feels like I haven't done a single worthwhile thing in my entire life."
"You can't possibly believe that. Not now."
"Now that we've started this thing? I do feel that we've done good. Made an impact. Helped people. Provided some source of comfort during these trying times. I still can't help but feel that we ought to be doing more, but… when I think of the false starts that I made in the past, it feels like they were leading up to the skills and the motivation I need now, in order to accomplish the work that we're doing. And, sometimes, I can almost convince myself that the world is better for our having acted within it."
"You're just trying to delay the inevitable."
"I know," Harold said morosely, looking down into the swirling pool of icy waters beneath them. "You know, it's been over a decade since I've done anything… adventurous, in the water. They tried to get me into one of those wave pools for physical therapy, and I… I lost it, if we're being honest. I'm not entirely sure that I'll be able to do this."
"I'm here with you, Finch," John said, his voice somewhere between confident and serious. "Just… take a deep breath, and remember the technique I showed you. Once you're back to the surface, just try to float. I'll find you. Do you trust me?"
"I… I know that I should trust you. Everything I've done this past year has been because of your help, and I know that you're better at these kind of things than I am, and… and I'm prone to anxiety even when there's no reason for it. And this situation in particular feels like there is a reason for it. But I want to trust you. It's just… difficult, and… and frightening, when your assessment of the situation differs from my own to this degree."
"Give yourself a little credit there, Finch. You're the one who started all this. You drew me in, and if it hadn't been for you, none of these adventures would have even been possible."
"Nonsense. Someone else, surely-"
"Not like this." John squeezed his shoulder, and Harold drew comfort from the firm pressure.
Drawing in another breath, he clutched at the railing. There wasn't any way to go but down, down into the terror of the icy waters and the unknown future they held.
"I'll be there with you," John reassured him. "You're not doing this alone."
"I know." The tears pricked at his eyes, tiny points of conduction in the frigid breeze. "John… if this ends tonight… I just want you to know, it's been a most astounding honor to work beside you, doing what we do."
"You know, it's just going to get colder."
Harold couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Well… I guess the only thing left to say is, Merry Christmas!"
And then he leapt.