Chapter 04
Harold worked on preparing his tea in the morning. His thoughts strayed to the previous evening when John had sat behind the laptop. Harold hesitated in the doorway of the bathroom when the said event happened but didn't chastise him.
Harold knew John had sometimes used his computer in the past, but he never lingered at the task long enough to occupy Harold's seat. The ex-CIA agent usually left before Harold even entered the room.
That was their routine in the past. Now this change in behavior left Harold feeling slightly uneasy. At the same time, to tell the truth, it was pleasant knowing that Harold had several hours to himself while John was entertaining himself.
Harold went to bed early and didn't even stir all night which meant John probably hadn't spent any time in his bedroom. Harold felt a bit disappointed with that knowledge. Also, as if on cue, Harold's insistent mind replayed John's words again.
"You love him too."
Which was utterly ridiculous and untrue!
Harold was so immersed in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard John's footsteps. He flinched in surprise at the soft touch on his scarred neck.
"Was it the ferry bombing?" John asked, ignoring Harold's reaction.
Harold cleared his throat. "Yes." He was grateful John couldn't hear the erratic beating of his heart. Thankfully, John's fingers left his skin and the younger man leaned on the kitchen counter.
"I spent some time looking up the events about it yesterday. When I read the articles I had the feeling that I already had it at some point in the past." John slowly speculated.
"It wouldn't surprise me. You were always a resourceful man," Harold uttered even though his attention was on his tea; he needed to strain his favorite beverage. Harold's treacherous heart leapt again when he saw from the corner of his eye John inching closer.
"What is it you're trying to accomplish, John?" Harold asked calmly, never so much as hinting at his nervousness.
"I don't know-"
Harold rudely interrupted him with an amused smile. "Please, don't try to lie. It doesn't suit you very well." He finally finished his tea and moved his whole body toward John. "Anything else you are curious about?"
"Your reaction." John answered sheepishly and took a step closer.
"John," Harold shook his head in exasperation, very aware of keeping his own breathing steady. "I'm afraid my reactions aren't that important. You want to know if your close proximity is what? Scaring me? No. I spent six hours trapped under your body where words such as personal space had no meaning."
Harold watched how John inclined his head slightly in fascination. "Also, I would only have to press here," he carefully applied pressure to John's ribs where the broken one was. Harold didn't want to hurt John further, he just wanted to stress his point.
John hissed in surprise.
"As I said, you are not scaring me, John." Harold smiled patting John's chest patronizingly. "Ask if you have questions, but don't assume the answers."
"I could say the same." John drawled softly.
Harold stared at him uncomprehendingly. Again, he was absolutely at a loss.
"You can pretend that you're calm as much as you like. You can regulate your breathing. I'm fairly sure you could bluff your way to the first prize in a Poker Tournament," John leaned a little closer. "But eyes never lie. Your pupils dilate when I'm close."
"You love him too." The voice in Harold's head insisted.
Harold smirked and grabbed his tea. "I hate to break it to you, John, but said dilated pupils are an unfortunate side effect of my sleeping pills. I'm using a prescribed combination of antihistamines and painkillers."
"Which is?" John prodded.
Harold continued with unhurried speed to his computer. "Common paracetamol in combination with diphenhydramine, also known as Benadryl. Anything else I can answer?"
"You're lying." John stated resolutely.
"I have never lied to you, John. That's my policy. Others may have done it in the past but not me," Harold assured him fiercely. This line of questioning, John even hinting at Harold's faulty integrity, was irritating.
"So, you will tell me the truth if I ask?" John reassured himself.
"Yes, certainly." Harold replied without thinking. John was obviously giving him time to put down his tea beside the laptop. Harold then turned around and waited for the dreading question.
"Do you love me?" John looked at him with intensity.
"No." Harold didn't even have to think about his answer and was unbelievably grateful for John's wording. If he had structured his question differently, if this John had asked if Harold loved the old John, Harold wouldn't have any idea what to say.
Harold saw the disappointment in John's body language. If John repeatedly stated that something didn't sit right with him, Harold certainly knew the signs now. He never wanted to hurt John's feelings. But at the same time Harold reasoned with himself, that it was not his John who felt the hurt.
"Do I have anyone? Family? Am I in love with someone?"
"I am not in the habit of being privy to your personal life, but to my knowledge you are not currently seeing anyone. As to your family, I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have no living relatives." Harold winced. This wasn't the kind of conversation he enjoyed having.
"Past lovers?" John asked hopefully. "Someone I'm on speaking terms with?"
"I'm sorry." Harold shook his head. He watched John's shoulders dropping slightly. Again, Harold hurt him without even meaning to. No matter how much he reasoned that this man wasn't his John, Harold still felt responsible for him. He wanted to shelter him from all the bad news.
"Anyone else I can talk to beside you, Shaw and Lionel?"
"I am not aware of anyone. Our work was very time demanding."
"So, I'm ok with helping other people and basically having no life of my own?"
Harold thought about the last few years. He wanted to point out that maybe John should be glad he even has a life to talk about. There were several instances when they were buried under the rubble that Harold thought all was truly lost and they wouldn't survive, but he simply answered: "Yes."
"And I'm staying and playing nice with a repressed sociopathic killer and burned out cop?"
Well, Harold would definitely use different wording for Ms. Shaw and Detective Fusco but again he just nodded without any fuss.
John only rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. Obviously done with the whole conversation. He started to rummage around in the cupboards, but Harold could still hear him muttering. "And he says I'm not in love with him. Of course, I'm risking my life for fun and giggles. Who wouldn't want to be shot at and maybe killed every day? John Reese, the good old suicidal soldier."
It went against everything Harold knew about his John. That John never muttered his complaints behind Harold's back. John used every opportunity to discuss his concerns with Harold; if he considered his points better thought out than Harold's opinion, John guided him to a different solution."
Harold sat down behind his laptop and ignored this John's childish behavior. He glanced up in surprise when John left a plate of Danish in front of him.
"You need breakfast. And you have a sweet tooth." John said grudgingly.
Harold stared at him without comprehending the situation again. Was it possible John remembered?
"Another one of those things I just know," he shrugged.
Harold didn't want to feel his disappointment so deeply. The tension between them was interrupted by the entrance of Ms. Shaw.
"Anything new?" Sameen automatically came to the laptop, stole one of the sweet rolls from his plate without asking and wolfed it down. This behavioral glitch Harold decided to ignore for the sake of his own sanity. She was not a woman easily understood.
"I haven't had enough time to check yet, but I don't think there are any new developments," Harold replied stiffly. Although, he was partially grateful he wouldn't have to be alone with John any longer.
"Good!" She quickly grabbed the remaining roll. "It's time for your appointment. Megan is waiting for us."
"Today?" Harold knew Ms. Shaw was trying to be helpful, but he was under impression that he would be scheduling the appointments with Doctor Tillman himself.
Sameen only gave him a long stare that could be easily translated. She just wasn't very happy with his answer.
Several hours later Harold was back in the apartment. His appointment with Doctor Tillman went well. Harold's hand was slowly healing. Blood results were in optimum range given the circumstances and he was allowed to return home.
The whole time they were at the hospital Ms. Shaw never left his side, watchful as always. Before leaving the apartment they had collectively decided John would stay home. The younger man hadn't protested at all. Harold attributed it to John's investigation skills. He probably wanted to use the laptop again for more research.
Ms. Shaw checked the door for unwarranted interference even though John should have been in the apartment alone. Everything looked peaceful and exactly how they had left it apart from John who nervously crossed the apartment.
"Your laptop did a- a thing," John alerted them.
Harold steadily limped to the computer expecting their new Number. It was time after all. But the digits surprised him again.
"Who is it?" Sameen demanded.
"Me." Harold replied calmly. It did make sense. By venturing to the city and exposing themselves they were now positive of the fact that they had a tail. Someone was following them. Someone knew very well where they were staying. That certain someone could easily strike at any opportunity.
Harold heard Ms. Shaw talking on the phone.
"Lionel, we have a situation."
Sameen was obviously concerned. What bothered Harold the most was the fact that if someone would attack them in any given moment he would probably never see his John again. His John, who should have been aware of their victory over Samaritan. His John, who should have been privy to the knowledge that Harold held him in a high regard.
"Harold, you'll be fine," Ms. Shaw assured him.
"Certainly," Harold replied woodenly, his thoughts still far, far away reliving a time with the man he knew.
Harold went past John. The idea of him carrying a gun and using it was absolutely laughable. He just couldn't imagine any circumstances where he would do it of his own free will. Of course, he wouldn't hesitate if the action would save someone's life. He would certainly try to protect John at all cost but willingly accept John's gun? Never.
"I won't be around forever."
John's words stopped Harold in his tracks. He turned around. They were slowly reaching the end game with Samaritan. All of them knew it. Harold didn't have time to answer, because John continued.
"Just need to know you can protect yourself once I'm gone."
It pained him to even imagine what John tried to imply. Their situation was too precarious. Any moment now someone could be hurt or worse. Harold refused to even think about Root. There will be an appropriate time to grieve. He only hoped he wouldn't have to go through the process for anyone else. He would put his life in danger without any thought if it meant the rest of his friends would survive.
Harold needed to talk to his John just once, then he would willingly accept his demise. But if there should be a choice to be made between putting his life in danger and not John's, even though it wasn't his John, Harold still didn't hesitate.
"We will give them what they want," Harold decided, watching them both thoughtfully. "Isn't it time for Bear to get some exercise, Ms. Shaw? I will accompany you to the park."
"Are you out of your mind?!" John bellowed.
John raising his voice, another unusual trait, but it shouldn't have surprised Harold that much. He winced in sympathy when John pressed his palm to his temple. John's own shouting was probably too loud for his concussed head. Of course, any amount of pain never stopped John for long.
"You have some martyr complex, Harold?"
"I think as an adult I have the power to make decisions about my person," Harold steadily held his gaze. "There is no reason why the others, in this case you, should be put in danger. You are currently without full knowledge of our situation and therefore too vulnerable."
"Oh, so that gives you the right to make decisions about me then?" John narrowed his eyes, visibly shaking in anger. "Just like you decided it was best for me to be locked in a vault!" He blinked for a second in confusion. "You locked me in a vault?" he repeated his own words with disbelief.
"Almost," Harold mumbled with guilt. He had certainly tried but the Machine never let it happen. He never found out how. Harold was just surprised when he was nearing the elevator where he would need to get to the roof of the building - the one that later that day crashed around them - John appeared out of nowhere in front of him.
"Hello, Harold." John drawled with a small smile. "I had hoped that you wouldn't try to do this alone." John sighed for effect. "And yet, here we are."
"It has to be me, John." Harold wanted to search for the right words, but they were quickly running out of time. "This is my past catching up with me."
John watched him calmly. "Is this the time when you're going to point a gun? And at me? I think we already played this game once on a different rooftop but if we're going to reenact it with our roles reversed, we're one bomb short. I let you stay and you saved my life. Isn't that what we do, Harold? Stay together?"
After a pause Harold's shoulders dropped and then they continued, together, to the elevator. Harold prayed they would both survive what was to come and that Samaritan's operatives were nowhere near the building.
They were both watching the numbers in the elevator changing as it rose quickly, but Harold felt like the whole world was slowing down. John was right. They had always stayed together. Against all odds. They were always surviving.
Even if the odds of not surviving were finally catching up with them and these were their last moments, Harold didn't regret any of it. The silence between them was too heavy. Harold didn't want to spend his last minutes keeping quiet.
"John? " Harold cleared his throat. He needed to thank John for many things, but their dire situation was already too difficult. "Just so you know I didn't want to go back down those stairs. It was an eight story building. My body wasn't that agile anymore." Harold muttered, but they both know he was not telling the complete truth. He would never hesitate to save John if it was in Harold's power.
"And here I thought we were finally getting closer, Harold. Way to go and break my heart." John replied in amusement.
Harold moved his neck to the side as much as his spine allowed him and smiled at John's profile. He knew John was only joking. It was not visible on his face but Harold certainly heard it in John's voice. "I didn't want you to have the wrong impression about me." Harold deadpanned.
The elevator door opened with a ding. John put a hand on Harold's lower back, drew his gun and they slowly entered the corridor. John ushered him to the side of the last floor where the access to the rooftop was.
Harold followed every clue of John's body language - staying back a bit while John scanned their surroundings and quickly moving wherever John was guiding him when John's shoulders would fractionally ease.
"What happened to you being a private person?" John continued with their
previous conversation when he was sure there were no threats on the rooftop.
Harold meanwhile opened the briefcase and activated the satellite. "I think we're done here."
"Good." John took his elbow and they both quickly moved to the exit from the roof. They were both acutely aware that the missile launched by Samaritan was on its way.
"You think we have enough time, John?" Harold tried to sound steady and unaffected, but his voice was shaking with nerves.
"Don't know, but I would try to chance it anyway." John drawled sounding exactly like he had in all the years Harold knew him - calm, soft spoken and warm.
"Thank you."
"Shouldn't I be the one thanking you?" John smirked a bit. "You were the one who gave me this job."
Harold nodded. John didn't need to thank him, not after all John had done for him. He needed to say that out loud. "You were the one-" But they were on the ground floor. Harold had run out of time.
"You infuriating, stubborn-"
"Reese!" Ms. Shaw hissed angrily cutting John off. For the first time Harold saw her losing her composure. "Leave him alone!" She then turned towards him. "Harold, it's not a bad idea, but I want to try something else first. We know you and John are targets, because someone saw you two out," Sameen reasoned with him. "I want to present them with Lionel. See, if he's in danger as well. It's not making a lot of sense why they would target only you and John, but not me."
Harold's brows creased thoughtfully. It was true. Ms. Shaw was always with them. The Machine must have seen something that made her believe John and he are the only targets.
"Alright. We'll do it your way," Harold conceded.
"Are you kidding me?!" John glared at them angrily, but this time didn't raise his voice.
"Troubles in paradise?" Detective Fusco entered the apartment and immediately went to Ms. Shaw's side.
Harold's thought process regarding their dilemma stopped for a moment. He really hadn't paid much attention to the relations others had in their small group. Yet, Harold knew Ms. Shaw and Root had had a complicated relationship - to put it mildly. Also that John's introduction to Detective Fusco wasn't the smoothest either. The good detective was at first the odd one out, but he slowly had warmed to all of them. Now, Harold could see that he belonged to their strange family-of-sort.
"She wants to risk your life and make a target of you," John pointed to Sameen.
"Ok," Detective Fusco reached for a chair and then sat down. "Let's hear it, Maybelline."
Ms. Shaw glared at him, but helpfully recapitulated the events of past two days. Harold was only glad he didn't have to contribute to the conversation.
"Ok, Satan's spawn. Let's do it." Lionel nodded and shrugged his shoulders. "Piece of cake. Wouldn't be the most dangerous thing I had to do with you lot."
"You are all insane." John shook his head in disbelief.
Harold mentally winced in sympathy again. It had to look absolutely crazy from John's point of view. John didn't remember all the dangerous situations they had been through the past five years. Harold didn't want to compare those past trials with the danger now and even though the enemy they were facing now simply hadn't struck yet, Harold felt much more safer. No one or nothing could be as dangerous as Samaritan and its operatives.
Harold was on edge for two more days, but the Machine didn't give them any other Numbers. Harold even tried to access the Relevant list, but the AI simply locked him out. Harold reasoned because his life was already in danger she didn't want to endanger him more.
Detective Fusco brought an entire box of donuts for the breakfast one morning. When they all gathered around the table Lionel huffed, "Ok, I will just state the obvious. Someone knows us. Someone wants you two dead," his eyes traveled from Harold to John. "And that said someone is not seeing me or Crazy Lady as a threat. What does it mean?" The detective raised his eyebrow questioningly.
"It's someone we encountered in the past," Harold deduced.
"I will give you one better." John scowled. "It's someone from the past who has connections to Shaw and Lionel."
"It's someone who has a connection to me." Sameen contributed to their speculation. "And who respects Lionel's rank to the point he wouldn't hurt him."
Harold mulled the idea over in his head. Who had a connection to Ms. Shaw? Harold could only guess her previous employer. But who in U.S. Army Intelligence Support Activity would be still alive? Most of the head positions in government organizations were replaced by Samaritan's operatives.
Harold opened his mouth to ask the question, but Sameen was faster coming to the same conclusion that he had.
"Impossible. It's not Research. They are all dead."
"Then it has to be someone who's been left behind," Harold mused. "Someone who slipped under the radar."
"They were all wiped out almost a year ago." Sameen told him coldly. "Hersh was the last one and he died in a courthouse."
"Are we sure about that?" Lionel asked fiercely.
Harold watched Ms. Shaw glancing at John before he said, "I wasn't in the courthouse then, Ms. Shaw. Is there a possibility he could be alive?"
Sameen shook her head. "He was on our side when the blackout happened. He died on our side, Finch. It's not him. This is not how he operated."
"Alright. Back to square one. Could it be someone from Detective Fusco's line of work?" They had to at least narrow the possibilities because it didn't make sense.
Lionel made a negative sign.
They needed a new approach. "One of our enemies then. Do we know if any of them survived?" Harold tried to remember the most persistent ones who caused the most damage. "Dominic?"
"Dead," Fusco answered.
They just didn't have enough information, so Harold went back to his first plan of action. "Ms. Shaw, I think it's time for you to get Bear."
"We're all going." John told them calmly without any inflection.
"I don't think it's a good idea," Harold replied. "I am sorry to say, but in your condition, you don't know the enemies, John."
"I can still hold a weapon and shoot," John reasoned.
"Yes. But would you recognize the enemy when you see him? We can't chance that you wouldn't. There is too much of a risk of you getting hurt and-"
Harold didn't have time to finish his sentence before John crowded into his space.
"So, that's how you played it all those years? You know everything, while my opinion is not relevant enough? No wonder he didn't tell you a word about his feelings when you're such a control freak!"
Harold stood there, paralyzed by the blow he just received. He tried to focus on his beating heart or his breathing. Anything other than John's face contorted in anger. This man was not his John. John would never-
Harold stopped his line of thinking. It didn't matter what his John would say or not say. He cleared his throat. "Excuse me!" Harold turned around and limped to the front door. In that moment he rather preferred being shot at than arguing with that John.
"Harold!" Sameen yelled after him in warning when he opened the door. But he wasn't going anywhere. Harold stopped on the spot looking at the barrel of a gun.