Chapter 10 - Harold's POV

Something happened. Finch couldn't pinpoint the exact word he said or the right sentiment he wanted John to understand, but suddenly his face was like an open book. John Reese wasn't the kind of man who would show his emotions. He was collected in every situation. Now he looked absolutely lost.

"John?" he whispered.

"I have to go, Finch."

"No." He saw John acting the same way only once. No matter what he wanted right now, Harold couldn't let him go. John's head wasn't in the right place. He was lost inside his mind. Just like the time in a hospital, when he collided with Harold's wheelchair. "John..." But it didn't stop him.

"Mr. Reese!" Harold raised his voice in a commanding tone. He didn't do this often. But it has had the desired effect yet again. John stopped in his track and turned around. What to say?

"I apologize for whatever it was I said. But you can't go out like this. You don't have a coat. It's October, Mr. Reese. I won't have your pneumonia on my consciousness."

It still didn't penetrate the fog John's head was in. Harold could see he was struggling with himself. "John, I am sorry to be this rude, but I'm not going to let you go. I saw you in this state when they told you about Mrs. Arndt's death. I must insist you spend the night here."

Harold used the wrong words again. John stopped being lost. He started to look terrified. He shouldn't mention the woman John loved. A terrible mistake on his part. John didn't talk about Grace. It was only fair return the favor with Jessica Arndt.

John was still too close to the door. Harold went after him, but stopped after a single step with a confusion of his own. John Reese, an ex-CIA operative, backed away from him. If Harold would guess his expression, he would say John was frightened.

"Mr. Reese?" he whispered carefully. Harold sometimes find it extraordinary how John could easily masked his emotions. Within a second, John's razor sharp focus was back on him. Completely under control, closed off and with a slight smirk.

"I didn't know you care so much, Harold."

It was unsettling. Almost disturbing to tell the truth. No one would believe John was looking lost moments ago. "Of course I care, Mr. Reese."

The smirk stayed on John's lips, but it wasn't a truthful expression. It was just a mask to hide his feelings. John made a big show of putting on his jacket, then taking his coat. "You need your beauty sleep, Finch. I will call you tomorrow. Good night."

There wasn't a chance Harold could ask if he's ok. He wasn't suppose to see John this vulnerable. But somehow he always did. When they told him Jessica Arndt was dead. When Simmons killed detective Carter in front of John. Harold saw John's heartbreak two times. He didn't understand what happened this time. What did he say wrong?

Three hours of sleep and then work. It was pointless to think about John's reaction, when Harold needed to be Henry Dellany, the number cruncher. The morning came with no text from John. His lunch break was a sad affair. The sunny afternoon wasn't better and there were no new flowers either.

Harold finally picked up his phone around four and for the first time dialed John's number in his own initiative. "Hello, Jack."

"Henry," John answered with wary tone.

And a disappointment settled in Harold's intestines. Of course. He saw John's vulnerability yesterday. There has to be a punishment. "You can't make it." Although they didn't agree on any plans, it was perfectly clear they won't see each other for a while.

"I'm sorry. I'm currently packing my bags. I need to go out of town for a week. A new contract arrived. It's a very wealthy and important client. I can't let him wait. It's a bad advertisement for the business."

"Oh." The sincerity in John's voice was evident. Maybe it wasn't his avoiding technique. It was just a bad timing. "It's alright. We can reschedule. Give me a call when you are back in town." Harold almost hit himself. What in the heaven's name possessed him to dismiss John this way? He forgot to play his role as Henry Dellany! He waited for John's soft laugh. They were starting a relationship. They have to talk more than once a week. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!

The heavy silence was his only answer. "Jack?" Harold asked after a moment.

"Yes."

"Are you alright?" This wasn't like their usual banter. Something happened, maybe it was the same thing from yesterday.

"Just tired. I didn't sleep very well last night."

Harold was overwhelmed with a panic for a moment. Isn't it Henry's time to tell Jack, he would miss him? He couldn't force himself to tell him that, never mind it was the reasonable curse of action. But it was almost like a physical barrier, which Harold couldn't overcome. His throat was dry. His palms were sweating and the words couldn't left his lips thanks to one reason only. They were too close to the truth. "When will you come back?"

"Next Wednesday."

"So I can invite myself to your place for Thursday?" Harold asked lightly. The heavy silence and a meaningful pauses were really tiring.

"Sure. I will pick you up around seven?"

"I look forward to it."

"Henry?"

"Yes?" Please, don't say you missed me last night. Please, don't make me say it in return. Harold understand his own reluctance, but they were just words. Words...

"You can bring Bear with you. My landlord's policy is we're dog friendly neighborhood. And he himself owns a crazy biegel."

"Thank you." Harold was holding his breath the whole time. John must have heard him. He was sure. They both knew each other's reactions. Especially via phone. They spent three years listening to each other. Speaking. Arguing. Harold silently working on his computer. John fighting or stalking their numbers. Sometimes just hearing the other one breathing was enough to ground them.

"And you can definitely text me anytime. I'm working, but half of my time is going through someone's house and the other sitting by the computer and designing the best security. I will make the time for you. I promise."

"Thank you."

"And you don't have to thank me for the flowers."

Now Harold heard a smile. But... "What flowers?"

"Bye, Henry."

"No. Wait. What flowers?" The silence was Harold's only answer. He didn't receive any flowers. John-

"H?" Andrew was again walking to his cubicle with a bouquet of purple hyacinths in a simple white vase. "Is this really necessary? I'm starting to feel jealous. I want some pretty flowers too. Or do I have to be gay to receive them?"

"Find your own man," Harold winked his way. His fingers didn't stop for a second. He was scanning the page for a meaning.

Purple hyacinth is the flower most commonly used to symbolize regret. A bouquet of purple hyacinth expresses the bearer's sadness over a situation and asks for forgiveness.

Harold could do nothing else than write John a text message. It was essential to speak his mind.

You are forgiven, Mr. Frost. And thank you again. They are beautiful.

This time he didn't expect anything back. Harold was content with the knowledge of John's whereabouts. He focused his attention on a computer and didn't think twice about ringing landline.

"Henry Dellany."

The only answer was static. Harold was scared for a moment. He thought about a Machine. He couldn't work on a number, not without John. But the static faded away and left behind only the sound of a heartbeat. The real heartbeat. Not the artificial one you could make with a sound system. More like a recording of an ultrasound.

Harold was sure it was from the Machine, but the meaning was lost to him. It definitely wasn't his heartbeat. He was calm before. And even now, slightly panicked, it didn't match with his.

This was not right. Harold put down a receiver. He now appreciated John's plan with safe words. "I hope you would be giving me warning, if I was in any danger," he whispered. His hope for survival was tied with his Machine, when John wasn't in the same town. No answer from the Machine as usual.

He carefully crafted a text message for John.

If you have a spare minute tonight, would you give me a call? I will be only reorganizing my bookcase.