Person of Interest: "The Later Years: Chapter 2
The Machine had eventually chosen a name, Aurora, their guiding light. She'd claimed she liked the sound of Aurora better than Northern Lights, and it fit her. She was not an open system, as Harold had decreed, but for Harold, John, and Shaw, she could be, under the right circumstances. She liked talking to them as a real human being would, and at times found it necessary.
This was one of those times. Harold and John sat together on their couch at home in the livingroom with a phone line open. Harold was the one having trouble articulating retirement, so it fell to John, to once again explain his thoughts.
It was somewhat ironic. He had always been sure that if either one of them were to ever talk about retiring, it would have been Harold, and not himself. But in this case, he was doing it for Harold, because what other choice did he have? And who would look after Harold if John was off saving numbers while he stayed home alone? Either they both retired or neither of them retired.
"John's right, Harold," Aurora said once he'd finished. "It is time. This was only one of many possibilities I saw for you and I'm mostly happy things ended up this way. Serenity is a good person and she would make a good Admin."
Harold stared at the floor and John reached over to take his hand and give it a squeeze.
"In no way would she ever replace you, father," Aurora said. "No one could ever do that. But while I am a sentient computer destined to live a very long life, you are not, and we must accept the inevitability that your lives will both be much shorter than mine."
John closed his eyes to her words, wanting them to go away. He didn't want to think about Harold's death. For without Harold, he had nothing.
"I want you both to enjoy the time that is given to you. You may enjoy the rest of your years with my blessing."
"Thank you." John wasn't sure who had spoken the cracked words.
After Aurora had left them, they sat together on the couch for a long time not saying anything.
"Shaw, I need you to take some things off my hands," John said on their way back to the library after finishing up their latest case.
"Oh? Like what?"
John made a right turn and headed for the brownstone he and Harold called home together.
"Where are we going?"
"We don't have to do this now, but if we do, I want to do it when Harold isn't home."
"Come on, John, what is it?"
"I'm not comfortable with this," he continued. "The idea of giving up all that firepower has me in a near panic."
"You're guns?! John, you're giving me your guns?!"
"I don't have much of a choice, with Harold as forgetful as he is."
"What have you got?"
"I'll show you."
When they arrived, John lead her inside their tastefully decorated home and down into the basement where he kept his work station. Gun oil, brushes, and cleaning cloths were neatly laid out on the old grey metal desk, and beside them was a large locked gun cabinet.
Shaw rubbed her hands together eagerly, as John unlocked it. She gasped when she saw what was hidden inside. "Oh my God, John, I think I love you! How much of this don't you want?"
"I have a Sig Sauer upstairs. I'm giving all of this to you."
"The whole thing?"
John swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and said, "If you want the cabinet too, it's yours."
It wasn't that he was emotionally attached to his weapons cache. Far from it. The hard part was letting go of something he wasn't sure he wouldn't need. Minus his time on the streets when he was homeless, John had never not had an arsenal at his beck and call, though it hadn't always been this plentiful of larger weapons.
He was keeping one gun locked in his bedside table. He couldn't not have a single gun in the house, but with Harold getting so absentminded and forgetful, he was nervous to have so many, even in a locked cabinet.
"Don't worry, I'll put all of this to good use."
"I knew you would."
Year: 2028
John had just placed the sliced deli ham into his shopping cart when his phone rang. He answered it through the earwig he still wore, even though he hadn't been on the job for several months now.
"Falcon," he answered.
"John, it's Aurora."
He was on immediate alert. She never just called him out of the blue like this, especially not since they'd retired.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Harold. He wandered away from home this afternoon shortly after you left. I think he was headed toward the library, but he got lost along the way."
Shit. John turned away from his shopping cart, prepared to leave it and run for Harold.
"No need for you to worry. I sent Ms. Shaw to find him and take him home. She's sitting with him now. But I didn't want you to freak out when you saw her there."
"Thank you, Aurora. I appreciate it. I'll be home as soon as possible."
All throughout the long checkout line, John couldn't help but think about his need to get home. He kept drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart in frustration that the line wasn't moving any faster. He needed to make sure Harold was okay with his own eyes.
At home in the livingroom he found Harold sitting on the couch, confusion etched into his face.
"What is everyone so worried about?" Harold asked when John knelt in front of him to ask if he was okay.
"You got lost, sweetheart," John said, cupping Harold's face with his palm. "Aurora said you'd wandered away from home and got lost."
"I'm fine. I was on my way to the library."
"But Shaw said you were going the wrong way."
"No. I would have gotten there. I know the way."
"Of course."
John got up and went back to the kitchen where Shaw was waiting for him. On autopilot, he began to put the groceries away.
"He's going down hill fast, isn't he?" Shaw asked.
John nodded, putting a bag of peas into the freezer. "Yes. Faster than I thought possible."
"Do you have any plans?"
"Ride it out. It's the only thing I know to do right now. Because of who he is, I can't send him to a facility. I have to be the one to look after him."
"You need anything, you call me, you hear?"
John nodded again, a lump in his throat.
"I might not be able to come myself, but we've brought on a couple of new people. We have a good team. I'll send someone if I can't come myself."
"Thank you," John whispered.
"I'm going to make some tea. Do you want any?" Harold asked, setting his book down and getting up to head to the kitchen.
"No. I'm fine, thanks," John responded.
He carried on reading Guns and Ammo magazine, only half listening to the sounds of water being poured into the tea pot and a spoon measuring out the tea leaves Harold liked.
The phone rang just as Harold was coming back into the livingroom with his steaming mug. John answered it.
"It's Aurora. Tell Harold he forgot to turn off the stove. And he left his laptop on the kitchen table." John did a double take at Harold who was watching him with interest.
"You left the stove on and your laptop is still in the kitchen," he told Harold.
Harold's face crumpled and John was on his feet in seconds, taking the hot mug from him and enveloping him in a warm hug. "It's okay, Harold. It's okay. Everything's okay."
"It's not okay. I'm broken. And you can't fix me."
"No," Aurora's voice came through the earwig. "But perhaps we can make things easier for you both."
"Easier?" John asked.
"I have some thoughts. Let me do some more planning and I'll get back to you about them when I have a more concrete plan."