The next morning Harbor had found herself whisked across town by a still pretty sleepy looking Harold to an apartment block of high-end lofts. She suspiciously followed him up to the fifth floor in the elevator and down the hall to the very end, it reminded her of her own apartment. She'd expected him to sit her in another of his safehouses for a few days just to make sure no angry Chinese agents came after her but this place was just plain stunning. When they got to the large grey door Harold produced a key and let them inside.

He stepped aside for Harbor to enter first like the perfect gentleman he was and she flashed him a soft smile as she walked passed him. Green orbs flicked around the loft apartment with her mouth half hung open. The place was large but mostly empty which made the apartment seem vast if nothing else. The exposed brickwork provided a modern elegance and Harbor adored the metal finishes dotted about the place. It didn't really look lived in what with being half empty but Harold seemed to enjoy leaving questions and mysteries in his wake.

"Not your place I take it?"

Harold shook his head softly. "No, it isn't."

Only Finch knew where he lived and that was how it would stay.

"Didn't think so, doesn't seem like your taste." She finally directed her eyes on the elder man. "So, why are we here? This another safehouse?"

Finch cleared his throat though suddenly seemed awkward, as if he were apologetic, it got Harbor to tilt her head in a mix of confusion and concern.

"Harbor," he began as he limped towards her, "I'm sorry, but after everything that has happened and us not having any way to tell if the Chinese are aware you saw their code you can't go back to your apartment. We can't risk you getting harmed." I can't risk you getting hurt. "By now they'll be aware that Mister Weatherly has been discovered and apprehended which means they'll be burning their operation. If they know about you then they'll – I don't want you to get hurt. They likely don't know but I'm a paranoid man and I like to be cautious."

He watched the young woman as her eyes once again darted about the place, a large living area with a bedroom on the back left and a reasonably sized kitchen on the middle left as one entered the apartment.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to lay low for a while, and this place is beautiful." She sighed then. "Just one problem, this place is bloody huge, I can't afford this. Hank, you've been in my little apartment, and while I get paid fairly well, this is Manhattan and it's not like I get four-thousand dollars a night."

Harold smirked as he waved her off. "None of that matters, I assure you, Harbor. The place is fully paid for already."

With that the suit clad man placed the key in her soft hand and flashed her an encouraging smile while she just stared at him blankly for a few moments.

"You … you bought me an apartment?"

How had he ever thought all Harbor had wanted was money? She truly didn't like taking things from people unless she'd earned it and Harold admired her for that. Then again, if she'd been alone since her father had died she'd probably learnt the hard way not to just accept things from strange men because they'd flashed you a smile and offered kind words.

"Yes." He finally told her. "I actually did the same for Mister Reese a short time ago. Speaking of Mister Reese, he packed your things into boxes – though he isn't too happy about it – with the aid of a friend of ours, Detective Fusco."

Harbor raised a shaped eyebrow quickly. "My things?"

Finch gestured loosely towards the kitchen and when Harbor moved a few steps back she found a stack of cardboard boxes waiting for her; all her life in a stack of boxes.

His brow furrowed deeply a few seconds later when she tried to give him back the little key.

"Hank, this place is beautiful, it really is, I love it, but I can't accept this. Dinner is one thing but a whole apartment? If you think it's safer I move then I will but you don't have spend all your money on me. You saved my life, that's more than enough."

He refused the key, even John hadn't put up such a fight when he'd gotten an apartment. Then again, Reese knew Harold had an almost endless supply of money, he knew Harold wouldn't take no for an answer, Reese knew he'd not taken advantage of Finch. Harbor knew none of that.

"You really needn't worry, Harbor." He let out a little sigh, a blip. "I'm really quite wealthy and would rather you be safe. I expect nothing in exchange for the apartment and would be most grateful if you'd accept it."

He could see she wanted to say no, he wondered how this had gotten so ingrained in her. Finch stood there patiently as he waited for her to go through some kind of mental debate, but eventuality, after more time than he'd expected she finally relaxed and he knew his side of the internal debate had won.

Harbor nodded slightly, more to herself at first and then him. Damn, he loved those green-eyes of hers.

"You're a good man, aren't you."

It wasn't a question and earned a true smile from the elder man.

"I try."

She kissed his cheek then and the scent of her flooded his senses. This girl truly wasn't like any woman he'd ever met before, not even Grace.

"Thank you, Hank, this place is really stunning and it's more than anyone has ever done for me before."

He felt a little awkward but Finch couldn't shed the feeling of happiness and pleasure that she'd accepted the apartment. Finch couldn't deny himself returning her kiss just so he could breathe her in again.

"I should let you get settled in so I'll leave you to it, Harbor, Darling." He turned to leave but paused a moment. "I thought you could put your poster above the fire, it's just about the right size."

Then he was gone and Harbor stood alone in a vast apartment she never could have hoped to afford had it not been for Hank Finch. The living area was incredibly large and would have happily fit a gargantuan sofa and coffee table with ease; she'd always wanted something bigger than her little loveseat. Looks like I'm finally getting that couch the size of a bed I've been craving. She grinned when her green-eyes finally settled upon a set of bookshelves, two of them between the big windows on the far wall opposite the kitchen, oh she was going to have fun filling those up with her books.

With a deep and calming breath Harbor slipped off her shoes and set them neatly by the bedroom door at the back of her new apartment, then went to sift through the boxes that John and Detective Fusco – whoever he is – had left for her. All her clothes, books, make up and everything else she owned was in those cardboard boxes. At first she'd been annoyed, two men – one of whom she'd never met or heard of – had gone through even her most private things and stored them away, in the end she'd not stayed mad long, Harbor couldn't go back to her apartment so someone had to pack her things.

Half of the boxes had been packed with a sort of 'shove it all in without breaking it' mentality while the others were all precise and used up ever single inch of space without anything being even remotely precarious; wasn't hard for Harbor to guess who'd packed witch boxes.

Ever so carefully the twenty-two year old unpacked and actually found herself having fun after an hour or so. She finally had enough room for her books without them having to stay stacked up on the floor or in a box under her bed. Once all the tomes were safely on the shelves Harbor found herself wondering if Harold had walls of books stashed away somewhere, not like at that library of his but books that had been repeatedly read and loved, books he woke up to and saw as he sipped his morning tea. Maybe this he'd used his own home as inspiration for this new home of Harbor's or maybe not; either way it made her smile.

When she'd gotten around to putting her clothes away she'd stopped dead to just stare at the closet, it was far larger than she'd imagined – almost half the size of her bathroom – but then again, she could have had fifty people in her living area and no one would have brushed elbows. Okay, that might be an exaggeration, muttered her mind. Harbor had always had to play 'Tetris' to get her clothes into her closet but by the time her things were away she still had half a closet to play with; and didn't that make her smile.

Things continued to find themselves stored away, each new item placed made her feel more and more as though she belonged, as though everything would be alright and that she could carry on with her life. She'd not particularly liked her old apartment but once her Richard Kruspe poster had gone up Harbor certainly liked her new one. Yes, the old one had served her purposes and hadn't been a bad apartment – unless one counted the slightly racist, very judgemental, old lady across the hall. That woman had taken to calling Harbor a slut before she'd even started to suspect she worked as a prostitute. The Super at her old place had always glared at her as though she were a piece of meat though, and yes, Harbor had been fully aware she didn't help herself exactly what with all her short skirts and dresses. This new place though, to Harbor it was like a palace and she truly adored it. At the back of her mind Harbor still felt a little off about accepting the key but Harold hadn't been taking 'no' as an answer and the escort had to live somewhere.

Long ago when she'd first started working for Fowler at The Coronet Hotel, a Councilman had tried to get her to move into an apartment so he could keep her as his own personal whore but she'd refused. Harbor was a whore, yes, but she didn't want a man thinking he owned her, there was a difference … or at least to Harbor there was. Harold hadn't once thought he owned her or that she was a possession. It was part of the reason she liked the computer genius, why she trusted him.

~X~

Young Miss Caldwell was hurrying through the Park when she spotted an elder redhead sat sketching the Alice In Wonderland statue, it was so detailed and so perfect that the green-eyed woman found herself at a standstill to just stare at the drawing. It was beautiful, so innocent and yet still so comprehensive.

"That's amazing." Harbor said before she'd even realized she'd spoken and the elder woman spun around to face her with a smile.

"Thank you! Sometimes I like to just relax and do something simple."

Harbor chuckled as she made her way closer to the seated redhead. "That's simple? I can't even draw stick men and I don't really understand art."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. People seem to think you have to just be able to draw but you can always learn." The woman told her softly. "Art doesn't need an explanation to go along with it. You just know.

"Personally I think it's a bit of both, some might be able to draw but if they haven't got that natural gift then it's never going to be quite right. I mean look at Hitler." Yeah, that's right just randomly start talking about the one man who's universally hated. "Sorry, I-"

"No, no," she waved her hand up at Harbor as if brushing away the tension. "I understand exactly what you were talking about."

"Good, I realize that sounded like it was going to go down a different avenue. Really though, that is so beautiful. I love the fur on the White Rabbit."

"Well, than you very much. Most people ignore me while I'm drawing so it's really nice to have someone take the time to say they like it. Sorry, I'm Grace by the way."

"I'm Harbor. My dad would read the Wonderland books to me all the time when I was a kid. " Said Harbor as she looked around the busy park.

The redhead's brow furrowed as if confused. "Are you waiting for someone? I didn't mean to keep you."

Harbor shook her head as she turned her attention back to the artist. "Yeah, I'm supposed to meet someone for lunch, he said he'd wait for me here."

The elder woman smiled softly. "Is this someone a boyfriend?" A jovial tease lingered in her voice. "Pretty, young girl all dressed up should be being treated by her boyfriend."

That got the escort to laugh. "Dressing like this is second nature."

That puzzled Grace but she quickly shrugged it off and dismissed it. However, when she noticed the pause on Harbor's face the confusion turned to mild concern, she set down her charcoal and pencil so she could turn properly to face the raven-haired beauty.

"Are you alright, Sweetheart?" She asked sounding suddenly motherly.

"I don't think he's my boyfriend, I don't think he ever will."

Harold was a mystery wrapped up in a riddle and topped with an enigma bow. He didn't have people he was attached to save for John and that was how Harold liked it. Better for them if he wasn't connected to them, yeah, she'd noticed that way of thinking. Harbor didn't blame him for any of that but this woman didn't know that, didn't know what sort of man Harold Finch really was. Her head snapped up when the artist spoke again.

"Well why not? I've known you all of two minutes and can already tell you're a nice girl. Bet you're a total catch."

Oh, now she thought Harold wasn't doing right by her. Logical assumption, I guess.

"He's em, he's a fair bit older than I am and he's kind of odd." Harbor couldn't help but smile as she thought of Hank and some of the strange, paranoid things he did. "I don't care though, I like it, but he's not really the kind for relationships." She sighed, it was nice to talk to someone for a change even if they didn't know anything about Harold. "Personally I think he's lonely and he's so kind to me. He makes me happy."

"Then you just have to make sure he realizes how lucky he is to have you." The elder woman's eyes grew sorrowful. "You have to grab it while you can."

"Maybe you're right." She says to sound positive but Harbor seriously doubted Harold would ever settle down let alone with her.

Harbor's cellphone rang then and the noise actually startled her, when she took her phone out of her bag the ID just read 'unknown' which meant it could have only been Hank.

"What are you doing?" Harold asked as soon as she answered in a tone that seemed more alarmed than anything else.

Harbor's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "Waiting for you."

"A hundred and two meters south of your current location, I shall meet you there." With that Hank hung up and Harbor stuffed her cellphone back into her bag as she tried to keep the internal confusion off her face.

"Sorry, that was him, I need to go."

"I hope you have fun. What's his name?"

The prostitute smiled, this having a friendly conversation thing was quite nice.

"Harold, but I call him Hank."

She watched as Grace's face fell then and when she spoke again her voice shook with aged sorrow.

"...Harold?"

Harbor noticed the look but had no idea what had caused it.

"Don't tell me yours is named Harold as well."

The artist nodded and Harbor suddenly wondered if she'd made a terrible mistake and had somehow ruined this woman's day of drawing statues. Harbor must have because Grace started to pack away her things.

"Em, yeah. Harold."

"Huh, small world. The name must be making a come back. It was nice to meet you, Grace. Bye."

Harbor didn't know why or how she'd upset Grace but she certainly didn't want to upset her further and also needed to meet Harold to find out what the fuck he was playing at. Her heels click-clacked on the hard ground as she headed off towards Hank.

It didn't take long for her to locate the elder man stood by a lamppost tapping away on his phone. The second he spotted her he stuffed his phone away and grabbed her by the shoulders with a tight grip that almost hurt.

"Why were you talking to Grace? How do you know her?"

Harbor just stared at him with a blank expression as her eyes flicked down to either of his hands on her.

"I don't know her, I just admired her drawing and we started talking. I've never met her before." She told him quickly, she'd never seen … whatever this new mood was from him before.

It took a second but did finally click, he'd used her name and it was very clear that Hank didn't want her anywhere near Grace. Harbor's eyes went wide.

"Hang on, are you dating her? Oh for God's sake, I'm an idiot."

Finch's hands dropped back to his side in sudden alarm and he took a step back as he realized he'd all but attacked her.

"No, no, I'm not dating her. I'm..." He trailed off with a sigh for a moment. "We were together once but not anymore, not for a long time now."

Each word made the sentence grow all he more confusing.

"And you're hiding from her? What did you do, sleep with her sister?"

Harold went rigid, more so than usual. "... I made her think I was dead. I had to, I-"

Harbor cut him off. When Harold's blue-eyes met Harold's again her face had softened and a layer of worry had settled on her stunning features.

"No. You don't want me to know, not yet, and I'm not going to make you spill your guts in the Park. If you still want to tell me tomorrow or next week or next month then alright, but for now can we go to lunch and forget about this?"

Harbor never ceased to amaze the bespectacled man. Every time he thought he'd finally figured her out Harold learnt he'd just unwrapped another layer; Harbor remained a mystery to him.

"Why do you just take my word for things?" He asked softly. "You never really push for answers, even Reese does that."

Harbor shrugged. "I'm a good judge of character, remember? You're a good man and I trust you." She paused then to glance back the way she'd come, Grace could still be seen very faintly as she finished packing away her things. "And you have good taste in women."

That actually made Finch laugh and got much of his self-made tension to drain away. Harbor was right, he didn't want to tell her, didn't want her to know how he'd faked his death and torn Grace's heart out, and Harbor had no intention of making him for which he was monumentally grateful.

After a calming breath he looped their arms together and they headed off together up to a bistro on E 76th. A short walk that soon had Harbor back to her usual self.

All through their lunch Harold had to keep pushing Grace from his memory. He'd had this mental conversation with himself a dozen or more time and frankly it had grown tiresome. He couldn't change what he'd done to Grace even if he wanted to, it had been too dangerous for her and if she ever saw him again Grace would kill him for real. Harold hated it, the feeling that he'd betrayed Grace all over again. Like his relationship or whatever it was he had with Harbor was him cheating on Grace. Harold didn't think of Grace as his ex when she came to mind, no he still thought of her firmly as his fiancée. Harold sighed. And it's not fair on either of them. Not Grace, not Harbor and not even on himself.

Somehow Finch managed to keep up conversation as they ate but afterwards when they left and slowly made their way down the street towards his car so he could take Harbor home he felt her squeeze his hand. Harold's mind snapped back to him and the hubbub around them properly for the first time in hours. She pulled him to a stop in the busy street which forced people to go around them but the pair went mostly ignored. He tensed when she wrapped him in a hug, he felt her generous chest press against him. Harold couldn't be anything less than rigid because of his injuries so to anyone else he probably looked as if he didn't want the hug, even though he very much did, Harold always wanted her touch. It took him a moment but he eventually managed to get his body to react and wrapped his arms around her slender waist.

Harold breathed her in, that rich and magical scent that flooded his senses and soothed his soul. Coconut in her hair and strawberry from somewhere else, that ever so light perfume she only wore when with him. She stood just as tall as him in her heels, perfect for him to gaze on those dazzling emeralds. Harold still didn't know how the hell she managed to walk in those things but she seemed quite fond of them and he wasn't going to complain.

"It's okay, Hank."

She spoke so softly that it filled Harold with confusion and something horrid deep inside his chest.

"What is?"

"For whatever this is to end." Harold's face fell. "You want to know what I've figured out about you? You've been hopping through names so long you don't know which one is really you any longer." Harbor told him in that lyrical voice of hers but it was saddened. "You said you preferred Finch so maybe that's the real you now but-" Harbor trailed off a moment; the rush of everyone's daily routine continued around them, taxi's honked their horns and people yelled in the distance. "Harold, I think you don't know how to not be alone, that you've forgotten, and Reese is the only exception. He's your best friend. I don't know what's going on between us, if it's something or just a thing that happens. Either way it clearly weighs far more heavily on you than it does on me, and I don't like seeing that. The constant second guessing and occasional self-hatred in your eyes. You're life is easier when it's just you, Reese and Bear … so that's how it's going to stay."

Slowly she rocked upwards on her heels and pressed a kiss to Harold's lips. So soft, so gentle, too short. Her hands rested on his lapels, her cleavage against his chest, her warmth drifted through his suit into his skin. Then she was gone, out of his personal space and he hated it.

"Go save someone for me, Hank."

Then she was gone, faded into the mass of people leaving Harold stood in the middle of the street alone and just staring at nothing in particular. Alone. When he snapped out of it a few seconds Harbor wasn't anywhere to be seen. It took him a several moments of people having to walk around him for Harold to realize what had just happened. She'd seen how he's been around Grace, noticed the way he thought about her just like she noticed everything else so easily. He'd been entirely absent through lunch, a dead body would have noticed. Had seen him interact with Reese and Bear as well, knew that they were the only people and dog Harold really felt comfortable around.

Harbor cared about him enough to leave and make his life easier. This girl was only twenty-two and yet there she went being the adult.

A pay phone started to chime then, no one paid it any notice but Harold did, always knew what it meant. He stared at it for a couple of seconds then sighed. His thoughts of Harbor would have to stop since duty called. With one last disheartening sigh he limped over to the pay phone and lifted the receiver off the hook.