IN REFERENCE TO S03E14 - PROVENANCE

XXXX

As far as Harbor could tell things were back to – for a lack of a better term – normal for Harold and his merry band of killers. There had been something about a plane that Finch had off-handedly mentioned but as usual he'd been vague and Harbor had known better than to push the subject. Reese had returned to the Library as well, as soon as he'd come back Harbor had noticed the change in the tech genius, he'd lit up and been so much happier; Bear had seemed happier as well since he'd gotten both his dads back. However, the most surprising thing to have happened to Harbor since her door had been kicked in was Sameen Shaw, or Badass as Harbor had taken to calling her.

Shaw had shown up at her apartment door and actually knocked. Instead of starting a fight or looking for details on Harold she'd asked for – of all things – outfit advice, something that would draw attention at a black tie even but still give her plenty of mobility and allow her to carry a number of knives strapped to her thigh. Of course Harbor had been beyond surprised by the odd and unforeseen request but she'd jumped at the chance to be of assistance. Harold and Reese had saved her from a twat with a gun so she supposed this was her way of giving back, that and she liked Shaw; anyone who protected the dog first was a friend of Harbor's.

That was how Harbor found herself stood in her bedroom before her open, massive, closet while Sameen sat on the edge of her bed looking ready to kill. At this point in her life and having known Harold for as long as she had she'd started to just take things in her stride.

"What are you, five-two?" Harbor asked without taking her eyes from the rows of dresses and skirts she owned.

Shaw shrugged. "Yeah, why?"

The escort just chuckled quietly. "You have your secrets I have mine. Now, tell me, is this thing a charity gala, opening night, what?"

Shaw didn't seem overly enthusiastic but Harbor suspected that wasn't anything new.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Harbor peered over her shoulder to the elder woman. "Oh trust me, it matters."

"It's some special exhibit at the museum, I'm not telling you anything else."

Oh and didn't that sound like Harold. "I wouldn't expect you to."

Sameen watched as Harold's girl rummaged through her massive closet a moment while she muttered to herself about dresses and other things the assassin didn't really care about.

It took Harbor a few minutes to find what she wanted but eventually she took out a garment bag and made her way over to Shaw with a smile of triumph. Sameen leant backwards a little as she wondered if this was going to be like a teen movie where they all had makeovers; if it was she didn't care what Finch said, this girl was getting dead.

"Don't look so stricken," Harbor rolled her eyes, "it's not like I'm going to shoot you."

Shaw raised an eyebrow. "If you try to braid my hair I might actually prefer it."

Harbor wasn't impressed but said nothing, just hooked the garment bag over the back of her closet door and unzipped it. The metal teeth gave way easily to reveal what lay beneath.

"This is the most expensive thing I own – well, it was until Hank gave me that first edition of The Island of Doctor Moreau." Clearly the elder woman didn't care. "Anyway, your chest is smaller than mine and you're shorter but it should fit."

Ever so carefully Harbor took the white dress out of the garment bag and hung it up all neat and tidy. It was pure white, tight with little spaghetti straps and would show off Shaw's cleavage very well. Though plain the dress more than spoke for itself.

"Put this on and you won't have to shoot a man to bring him to his knees."

That got a smirk out of Shaw and Harbor filed it away as a sort of win. The elder woman finally rose from the bed and went to inspect Harbor's choice of outfit, brown-eyes looked it over and she had to admit when Finch and Reese saw her they'd be speechless. That was why she was doing this, neither of them seemed to think she could work it when she needed to; not now Shaw had access to Harbor they wouldn't.

"Pretty sure we're the same size." It was only then she realized Harbor had gone back to look for heels. "Please don't get blood on them they're the next most expensive thing I own. I trust you can do your own hair and make up."

Shaw nodded. "Yeah. Thanks, Harbor."

The younger woman just zipped the bag back up after she'd put the dress back. "Sure, any time. You'll need a coat as well, storm is coming apparently."

The sound of rummaging sounded again while Shaw just watched on with an amused smile. It didn't take Harbor as long to find the right coat and pull it out into the light. The thing didn't look as though it had been worn very often but Shaw wasn't surprised what with it being white and fluffy.

"You think of everything, don't you."

Harbor shrugged a single shoulder with a twinkling smile. "Not everything but I'm good. However, I am curious why you came to me though."

That question had been lingering between them since the assassin had shown up but neither had made any comment on it until now. I wasn't like they were friends or anything, they'd only met once and that had been after Shaw had kicked Harbor's door down like she was conducting some sort of drugs bust.

Harbor offered Shaw the shoe box which she accepted while the coat got hooked on the coat hanger inside the garment bag.

"Reese and Finch think I can't blend well. I'm a hammer, Reese is a scalpel so Finch says. I could find a dress on my own, I can work it when I have to but you're the girly one, you all this crap, and I want to see the satisfying 'oh shit' looks on their faces."

Harbor roared with laughter, a sound far louder than seemed possible from the escort. By the time she was done laughing Harbor had to wipe away a tear.

"Shaw, I'm not girly, I just like short dresses. And... understanding the nuances of an event or a situation is like espionage. One wrong move and everything is in jeopardy, people look at you different, doors close, they make assumptions and before you know it the game is up. The only difference is you're likely to get shot and I'd be screamed at and thrown out on my ass like I was scum."

Sameen looked the younger woman up and down, something didn't quite make sense about her and not just the fact she had the hots for Finch. This girl was darker than anyone knew, Harold probably hadn't noticed it – not fully at least – and Reese had probably been overly suspicious of it. Shaw though? She saw it for what it was, a darkness that had happened, something that had changed Harbor Caldwell and it wasn't something as simple as being an orphan.

"Why do you do this?" She asked the taller woman after a moment. "Let men pay you for sex? I mean you've got assesses so work them but why? Always playing into what they want. You're dangerous, so why settle for being an escort when you could put that danger to much more use?"

Harbor sighed and went to aimlessly look around her closet. Shaw suspected Harold would have looked into her past but Shaw knew there was a difference between facts that had been recorded and facts that had actually happened.

"My mom died giving birth to me so it was just me and my dad. He was a marine and he'd always wanted a son so he didn't really know how to raise a girl; especially alone." Harbor's voice was low and sad. "He raised me as best he could, how he'd have raised a boy. Played catch with me, taught me to use a firearm and defend myself, not nearly as well as you or Reese but it's better than nothing." Wasn't when Craig Weatherly tried to kill you, was it? "When I say I'm not girly that's true, I don't really know how to be. As I got older I obviously started to develop curves and boys noticed me and then I realized just how much power I had over men if I went about it the right way. Then when I was sixteen my father died and I ended up on my own. No family, no guardian and a sixteen year old going into foster care? Doesn't usually go well." Harbor paused a moment and Shaw knew they were getting to the root of that darkness she saw inside the prostitute. "The house I got sent to had two other girls, one older and one younger. The foster parents weren't good people, they ran the girls as whores and did the same with me. Didn't care what happened to us as long as we told the people who came to check on us periodically that we were okay."

"They dead?" Was all Sameen asked, voice mostly blank of emotion save for irritation and mild anger.

Harbor shook her head, her long hair fell over her shoulders.

"No. The elder girl, Charlotte, after I came into the house she went to the cops and told them. My foster parents are locked up now. After the first time they … sold me , I left. Just walked out in the middle of the night and never went back." She took a deep breath. "Sometimes I feel bad, I should have stayed with the other girls but I was young and didn't know what else to do. Obviously Charlotte and Lydia didn't suffer too much longer but still, I should have stayed with them. Maybe me walking out was the right thing to do because it scared my foster parents so much they didn't notice when Charlotte slipped out to go to the cops. I ended up here-" Harbor gestured outside to the vast city, "-and Fowler found me walking by the hotel one day." She smirked. "He tried smooth talking me and I knew what he wanted, I'm not stupid. I figured this time at least it was my choice and I got paid. Then I met the men, some were dicks sure, but some of them, they were just lonely. Some can't talk to women or think themselves inferior, some have got scars or burns or something else they think is going to disgust women. However, when they were with me they seemed happy, just for a while. I liked that, I still like that. I saw being an escort in a whole new light. I got to help them. I guess it was just a way of justifying it."

The raven-haired beauty shrugged as she expected Shaw to tell her she was talking shit.

"Hey, you don't need to justify to me." That really was the truth, Sameen did the things she did for her own reasons, and Harbor had done the same. "What you do is dangerous too and I have to admit I respect how easily you seem to be able to get access to people and information. Finch told me about your photocopy head thing. You'd make a good agent."

The twenty-two year old snorted; very unladylike. "You offering to train me?" She teased.

Harbor had expected the subject to end but no, instead Sameen looked her over head to toe, toe to head then back with calculating eyes. Then, after a disturbing length of silence, she nodded to herself.

"Why the hell not? Once I'm done with Finch, Reese and this job, I'm coming back here with your bloodless shoes and I'm gonna see how good Daddy trained his little girl."

With that Shaw left with the garment bag and shoe box in her arms while Harbor just stood there in her room wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

~X~

The very next morning when woke for a run she got read and grabbed her headphones. She'd noticed she'd started to eat more junk food since Harold had entered her life – since the man had little to no cooking skill of his own and seemed to prefer living off take out – so she'd been forcing herself to go jogging more often. It had been fun when she'd had Bear with her, a nice little companion to run through the Park with.

As she left her bedroom wondering if she should listen to Rammstien or Oomph! she found herself quickly ground to a halt when she reached her coffee table, set down neatly was her shoe box and across the couch lay the garment bag. Green-eyes flicked around in search of Shaw but the elder woman wasn't anywhere to be seen. There was, however, a note left on one of the blue sticky notes that had permanent placement on the black coffee table. 'I didn't think you'd want me to leave this stuff in the hall. Had to strip the shoes off but they're not scuffed. Gonna have to take a rain check on that training.' Harbor read over the note with a soft smile, yes Shaw had – once again – broken into her apartment but she rather liked that she seemed to have befriended this badass of a woman; even if it had been accidental. In a way Harbor had been Finch's dirty little secret for a time but now his friends – colleagues? - appeared fairly fond of her; well, she had Bear's approval so who else mattered?

After her run Harbor had gone home, showered and put her stuff away before she'd headed back out onto the busy Manhattan streets with a plan. She made quick work of getting to the bakery then headed straight for The Library. That little voice in the back of her head still told her that Harbor wasn't welcome there, that she shouldn't go back but Harbor ignored said voice. She'd been to the bakery, Harbor could bribe everyone; she hoped. If Harold had wanted her to never return to The Library he'd have probably sat her down and told her, he liked to make things clear when he was serious, just the rest of the time he was cryptic as shit.

Her heels announced her before Harbor was fully up the stairs so she walked in to find Bear sat waiting for her still with the elephant she'd gotten him. Harold quickly caught her attention though, he stood by his desk loading books onto a cart and raised eyebrow of surprise when his blue-eyes met her own polished emeralds. Quite clearly her presence had not been anticipated.

"Harbor? What are you doing here?" He inquired as he limped a few steps towards her.

"I know this is your uber secret headquarters or whatever but, once again, I'd like to point out that I don't have your number." Harbor told him without looking at him, she just placed the cardboard bakery box down on his desk beside his keyboard while Bear trailed along behind her eager to see if he got something as well.

Finch paused a moment as he took notice of her navy lipstick, so bold but worked wonderfully with her black dress. Harold liked seeing her lipstick, not because it did anything for him necessarily but because it meant he was the only man she'd be seeing. A quick peer down to her heels revealed them to be the same shade of blue and – nope, he snapped his mind back from the gutter.

"Give me your cellphone." Insisted the genius.

Harbor just looked at his outstretched hand a moment wondering if he was being serious; she'd known him months and he'd never offered her his number once. Not once! Harbor wouldn't look this gift horse in the mouth though, she smiled – beamed really – and quickly handed the bespectacled man her phone. He tapped a way for a couple of seconds and then the phone was back in her hands. Her smile only grew when she noticed he'd entered his number under 'Hank'.

"Anonymity, your favourite."

His head tilted a little, as best as he could manage what with four metal pins holding his neck together.

"I thought you said calling me Hank cancelled out a lie."

She didn't respond to that just shoved her cellphone away and set her bag down beside the box. Bear must have lost interest because he'd gone back to his bed with his head rested on the toy elephant. Harbor flashed Harold that not so innocent smirk of hers and grabbed him by the tie so she could pull him into a kiss, automatically Finch's large hands went to settle on her hips.

"Save anyone recently?" She asked, her breath hot on his skin, when they broke apart.

He smiled, that smile that made his blue-eyes twinkle. "Two someones actually. However we did have to break in to Symmetric Security to do it."

Well someone's sharing today, muttered her mind. "Probably had it coming." She said a little dismissively. "I see Farrow every now and again, he's the security guard supervisor, bit of a prick at times, I get the feeling Mommy didn't hug him enough."

Finch paused and just stared at her blankly, had it been a cartoon she'd have waved her hand in front of his face in that far too quickly way cartoons had.

"Farrow?" He questioned with an expression that read as 'mental facepalm'. "Well, I wish I'd known that earlier, it would have made getting his fingerprints an awful lot easier and quicker."

Harbor kissed him again with a smile. Finch couldn't help noticing how she tasted sugary like donuts.

"Oh, Hank, Baby, I'm full of uses."

After another kiss Harbor stepped out of Finch's way so he could fix his tie and go back to looking like the perfectly put together gentleman he was.

"I don't doubt that for a single second, Harbor Darling."

He'd called her that a few times and for the life of her Harbor couldn't work out if he was actually aware he'd used the pet name or not. Harold always seemed so aware of everything but … Harbor didn't know, the nickname seemed spontaneous and unplanned. Harbor could think about that conundrum later.

"I brought you donuts." Harbor quickly took the hint to move so Harold could march to the bakery box, he flipped the lid open and a subconscious hum of delight when he saw the array of donuts inside. "I don't know if Smiles and Badass are here but I'm sure you and Bear can save them some."

"I assume 'Smiles' and 'Badass' refer to Mister Reese and Miss Shaw." It wasn't a question. "No, neither are here, they have the day off. Rare but it happens every now and again."

Finch sat himself down in his chair and took a rather large bite of his donut, it drew Bear's attention because suddenly the dog was up – elephant forgotten – nuzzling his head into Harold to try and get a treat. Harold stilled when he noticed the evil grin that slowly erupted on the younger woman's face; somehow that calculating look scared him more than guns in his face.

"That means you have the day off as well!"

Finch didn't pause for a single second, just swallowed his bite and peered up at her. He watched as she perched on the desk and crossed her legs one atop the other giving him a perfect view of the tops of her stockings, she didn't usually wear those but they certainly had Harold's interest. When he thought about it Harold thought Harbor's impossibly green orbs to be the most beautiful part of her but God those legs could kill a man. He couldn't let himself get distracted though.

"Oh no. I have to go and make it seem like my false identities actually exist. It's a pain sometimes but it needs to be done."

Bribing Harold with snacks seemed to work a treat, he'd not mentioned that she wasn't supposed to be there once.

"So? Reese and Shaw get the day off and you have to go play Mister Fake-Name?" That didn't seem fair.

The suit clad man just shrugged as he finished his donut. "We all have things to do, Harbor. Shaw, I believe, is cleaning the entirety of the armory. Everything from the Glocks to that RFB Carbine she stole."

"Hmm," Harbor mused to herself. "I'd have thought her more of a Beretta girl myself."

Harold eyed the prostitute at that, he hadn't realized she could use a gun until Miss Shaw had off-handedly mentioned it a few days previous. Sure Harbor wouldn't ever be Reese or Sameen but it wasn't like Harbor was going to go down without a fight.

Harbor raised an eyebrow when Finch brushed sugar from around his mouth with his right hand then slowly trailed his fingertips up her smooth thigh. Usually Harold waited for her to touch him, some internal concern that she'd not want him touching her or that he needed her to act first by way of consent; Harbor wasn't exactly sure.

Finch found his mind go back to after their first time together and the destruction he'd caused, the total mess he'd made; he didn't want to think about it so he took a moment to force it from his mind. Harbor's green eyes watched him the whole time with a hidden smile and just let him touch as much of her as he wanted. She liked it, those talented, calloused fingers. Harbor adored the way they set her nerves off and made her body tingle with want for the elder man.

"Sure you don't want all your alias' to take the day off?" She tempted in a sultry voice. "Huh? Skip out and spend the day with a prostitute. I'm sure at least one of your fake names is a naughty boy."

Finally Harold looked up at her and seemed to realize he'd gotten lost in her legs but – much to Harbor's pleasure – didn't move his hands from their teasing of her thigh. The lace at the top of her stockings was rather enticing.

He breathed out a laugh. "While I would enjoy that, and am sure some of my identities would jump at the chance to bed such a beauty, I must attend to my other identities' appearance rather than their desires."

Harbor pushed herself to her feet then with a show of mock upset that had Harold smirking to himself, then she bent down before him. Harold knew why, he wasn't stupid, she wanted him to have a perfect view of her generous cleavage. She let his eyes linger a moment and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her hand cupped his cheek, then she was in his lap.

"Are you going to tell me the fake names?"

Harold didn't pause a single second. "No."

She pouted like a hard done to child, which somehow made her emeralds pop even more than they usually did. How did that face make him cave? Maybe we should put her into interrogation, his mind mused, just get her to flash a man that look and they'd spill every detail. He hated that he'd caved but at the same time knew if he did continue to say no she'd just accept it.

Harold sighed, couldn't let her see how easy it was go get an answer out of him now could he?

"You get two guesses and only yes or no for an answer."

Harbor perked up at that as if she'd won a prize. Truly she'd expected the answer to remain no. However, if he was going to set a game in front of her Harbor would play happy and eagerly. She wriggled a little which had her settled softly with her arms around his shoulders while Harold had one hand supporting her back and the other drawing tiny patterns along her thigh.

"Hmm, let's see. You like birds so I'm guessing it's those for a last name." She said to herself while Finch watched her mental process.

He couldn't quite figure out how Harbor could appear completely innocent while at the same time being entirely iniquitous; quite amazing really. Finch could feel the younger woman's warmth drift through his suit, past his skin and into his very soul, he never felt at ease around people but Harbor, she silenced all his paranoia and worry; she let him breathe easy. He'd also taken notice of the fact that – despite being sat in his lap – she placed no weight on his bad leg or hip, the raven-haired beauty took such care not to cause his injuries any harm, but she did it in such a way that Harold didn't feel pitied or as though he was fragile like glass. The twenty-two year old hadn't once asked what had caused his injuries, but he suspected she'd got a few theories, and he silently thanked her for that; maybe one day but not today.

"I know about Finch and Dove." She said more to herself than Harold. "Something that could actually be a surname so I doubt Harold Penguin has ever popped up. Sparrow? Harold Sparrow?"

He let out a little hum in the negative. "No, last guess."

Harbor pouted in that cute way again but didn't seem deterred. Finch suspected the pout was a learnt reaction she'd developed as a result of her chosen profession.

"Too Caribbean pirate for you?" She teased. "Yeah, maybe it's something a little more unusual. Something like quail."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Is that your guess."

He hoped it wasn't because she'd be bloody right.

"No." She swatted him because this was a game. "Ooh! Starling! Harold Starling? Sounds like something you'd come up with."

For a moment he wondered if she'd looked him up, gone google-ing Harold plus random bird names until she found some scrap of tangible evidence, but he knew how unlikely that was, she'd not have felt the need. When Harbor tapped his cheek Harold realized he'd not spoken and she was developing that 'I'm right, aren't I' smile of hers.

"… Yes. Yes, Harold Starling is one of my alias'. However, it's not a very well used one." He was giving her too much and Harold knew it. "Also, like I said, I must attend to my alias."

"It's really not a day off." Maybe she was right, Harold didn't really know how to have a day off anymore. "How's Smiles? You know, after you know all lost your friend?"

Finch couldn't deny he was grateful for her concern but at the same time he didn't wish to be reminded of the loss of Joss Carter or how Reese had … coped.

"It's day by day." He told her after a moment. "Some days he's better than others but Mister Reese is a strong man both mentally and physically. He will recover eventually as we all must. He didn't want me to know but he's gone to visit her grave today."

Such concern shone in those impossible eyes. "Have you talked to him about it? Or maybe Lion."

Harbor found a puzzled expression shot her way. "Lion?"

"Lionel Fusco." Harbor rolled her eyes. "You know how I am with nicknames, Hank, he's Lion now. Live with it."

Oh he would. When she'd started calling Bear 'Teddy Bear' he'd realized there was no hope and it was just a strangeness unique to her that wouldn't be going away any time soon.

"So?" She prompted.

"Yes, we both have and while I believe it helped it doesn't change the fact we still lost her. That Simmons-"

Harold cut himself off, because it was too hard to talk about or because he was telling her too much again Harold wasn't entirely sure. Thankfully Harbor didn't push him further, just cuddled in close to his chest to provide all the wonderful comfort she could.

"It's okay, Hank, you don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry I brought it up. Eat another donut and then go play Mister Fake-Name."

Hank nodded. "What do you intend to do?" He questioned in an attempt to change the subject; she let him and straightened her dress as she stood; Harold mourned the loss of her warmth.

"I'm going to go get ready to see a client in a couple of hours. Mister Confidence has missed me apparently."

"Ahh, Isaac MacFarlane."

Though she paused a moment Harbor wasn't overly surprise he knew who she spoke of, he'd seen her client list and all their nicknames. Shame Farrow hadn't been in the list back then.

"Yeah, and a few hours after him I've got a new guy. I say new, it's been about three months now."

She bent similarly to how she had before and kissed him then wiped the little smudge of lipstick away with her thumb; she'd been tempted to leave it.

"Have a good day at work, honey." She grinned jovially.

Then she was walking away and Harold would have been lying if he'd said he didn't admire the way her dress clung to her backside; he wasn't ogling her … he didn't think. He was more focused on the way she left, confident like she belonged, she wasn't ashamed of who she was, what she did for a living. While she didn't like the looks of disgust many gave her when they figured out she was a whore Harbor didn't let it hold her back. In that respect Harold greatly admired Harbor Caldwell.

She flashed him one more smile before she faded out of view and he found it infectious; or maybe it was the sugar rush. Still, he couldn't sit there with Bear eating a box of donuts to himself all day, he had to go to the office and be Harold Wren. In a way – Finch supposed – he was the same as Harbor, pretending to be something he wasn't in order to give others what they expected or wanted, and what people expected of Harold Wren was a middle-aged, technophobe who preferred to just keep his head down and work; so that was who they got and that was how Harold liked it.