A couple of weeks went by after they'd returned Sean to his aunt and Harold had essentially run away from Reese, well more like ten days really. Harbor hadn't seen him at all in that time but it had raised less of a red flag with her than it had the ex-agent.

Harbor had just gotten her usual plate of pancakes at the diner she and Harold often frequented and had just started to drizzle syrup on it – a girl needed a treat on a special occasion – when the stool beside her at the counter shifted. Green eyes glanced up to find Finch and a smile pulled onto her face as she greeted him. He quickly returned her hello and ordered himself some tea.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, hmm, Hank?" She teased sweetly.

"Well, it's not every day you turn twenty-three. Happy birthday."

It had been so long ago that he'd been twenty-three and the memory truly made him feel old. Still, he brushed it away quickly.

"How did you-? Oh yeah, you know pretty much everything about everything."

Finch smirked. "Not quite but I appreciate the faith. Any plans?"

A waitress set his tea down then and Harold took a sip.

Harbor shrugged. "Well, I'm going to gorge myself on pancakes at the moment and then I was thinking about getting myself a new book."

Finch was taken aback. "That's it? No party or meeting with friends. No normal young woman thing?"

Green eyes peered up at him. "Hank, you should know I don't have friends and I'm not a fan of parties if I can help it. Besides, I don't need much and since when have I of all people been normal?"

She had him there. Harold didn't think for a moment, just looked at her while Harbor started to eat amidst the hubbub. A twenty-three year old who didn't want the latest tech or a car or something else equally pricey just because 'everybody else has one'. In Harold's mind young people like Harbor were getting harder and harder to find. Then again, she'd been on her own since sixteen and her father had raised her on military retirement pay, she'd probably been taught from an early age to be grateful for the things she had. Suddenly so much of Harbor's personality made sense.

He watched her eat. So dainty and Finch couldn't help but wonder if it was something she'd learnt and put on for show or if it was just a part of her. Reese's comments drifted back to him then but he pushed them away before they could take hold. Harbor Caldwell was his friend and one he'd like very much to keep.

After a pause Finch grabbed a present the size of a shoe box from his knee and set it down beside Harbor's plate. Instantly her head snapped up. He'd expected – hoped – her eyes would have lit up happily but instead they peered at him questioning; Harold's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Oh, Hank, you already gave me that books and an apartment, you don't have to keep giving me things."

It wasn't that she was ungrateful, he realized, just that she wasn't used to people giving her things unless they wanted something in return; especially if they were men. He wasn't deterred.

"I know I don't. Worry not, I have no intention of shutting off the park so I can turn it into Happy Harbor land." That got that chuckle he adored so much. "However, it is your birthday and you're right, I know you don't have friends, which means I know no one is going to give you a birthday present and I won't allow that."

Finch worried a moment that he'd made that sound as though he pitied her which he didn't, Harold just wanted to be happy. Fortunately she seemed to have understood that – clever girl , muttered his mind – and she set her cutlery down. Harbor picked up the gold wrapped gift and opened it with a smile. Inside she found it was shoe box sized for a reason. Inside wasn't just any pair of heels either, they were the most perfect pair she'd ever seen.

"Tip Top Alta!" She somehow managed to squeal and whisper all at the same time.

"I believe you once said book and heels were your weakness. While I know little about women's shoes I must admit I like the black lace, they're quite fetching."

Ever so carefully – like a mother with a newborn – she set the Louboutins down in their box.

"And cost over a grand."

He furrowed his brow when he saw the smile fade.

"You said you wanted them, remember?" He said as though it was all very logical.

Harbor nodded. "Yeah, because I couldn't ever afford them and it was a little fantasy." She turned bodily to face him. "Hank, please don't think I don't appreciate them because I do, they're beautiful and perfect and you're right I want them really, really bad, and I know you're well off but you don't have to buy me such expensive things."

Then it clicked for the tech genius. It wasn't just the gifts. It wasn't that she'd grown up on a budget and learnt to be thankful for the things she had. This went so much deeper. Harbor didn't think she deserved or was worth such nice things. Oh that made him hurt. She had nice clothes and jewellery but in her head that wasn't for her, it was for the men she saw. Harbor still saw herself as that orphaned kid who was little more than a money maker to her foster parents; yeah, he'd figured their little game out pretty quickly. Those people had done far more damage to her than he'd imagined. Then again that was all Harold could do, imagine. His father had slowly slipped away but Harold had always been loved while Harbor had just suffered through one loss after another without anyone to help her. She'd never met her mother – probably had some deep-seated belief that she'd killed her. Her father had died before she'd really understood the world and then those monsters had decided to add her to their makeshift brothel. Hell, until Finch had met her Fowler of all people had probably taken the best care of her.

"Harbor," he began slowly as it all started to make sense, "you're worth treating, spoiling even." Finch stressed that. "When I was a child my father and I didn't have much but we had enough, enough to be happy and not have to worry. Then when I grew up I spent the better part of my life making myself very, very rich. Money never made me happy though, well, unless it's buying my suits, I do love my suits." He said in an attempt to lighten the mood. "However, my point is I understand that money isn't everything, and I understand that to people with nothing it is everything. Your work, you do it because you like to help people and it's your way of doing that. You use your body to make people who feel shame, or whatever their problem is, you make it go away a while. You did that for me even without meaning to. And I think working for Derek Fowler has made you think that to most men with money your worthy of nothing unless they decide you are. That you're nothing but a pretty stand for them to drape in silk and diamonds to make themselves look better. They don't want or need you they just want to use you. That's why when you started working for yourself you were so specific about the people you saw." Finch sighed. "Now, I know you don't see me that way but the wiring is still there. Let yourself have some fun, Harbor. They're a present for a reason. It's your birthday and I care about you enough to get you a present that you wanted." He paused a moment or two. "Oh, and I'm not 'well off'. Pick any number you want, add nine zeros to it and you probably still won't be close to how much money I have."

Her brow furrowed deeper. "Wait, wait, wait, that would make you a … a billionaire. With a 'B'?"

He could see what she was doing, forcing the emotional damn inside her back down where no one – including her – could find it. Reese and Shaw, hell, even Root, would have called her out on it but Harold knew now wasn't the time to push further so he let her change the subject.

"Yes," he nodded "with a 'B'."

She breathed out a half-hearted laugh as her polished emeralds returned to the shoes. "These really mean nothing to you then."

"The money for them? No. The shoes themselves do though because I new you wanted them. I knew they'd make you happy." He sighed quietly. "I hoped they would."

Suddenly the speed of things changed and Harold had to remind himself he wasn't under attack when, in an instant, Harbor was up on her feet and had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She was pressed against him, it wasn't sultry or seductive, just straight up thanks and joy.

Harold smiled to himself as he rested his hands on her slender hips. Harbor wasn't quite right in the head, a little warped in places and understanding, but then again, so was he, so was Reese and Shaw. Detective Fusco had been a corrupt cop at one point, Carter had taken things into her own hands eventually and Root was … Root. In a weird way Harold supposed Bear was the only normal one amongst them and he was a dog.

As he hugged her Finch realized Reese had been right, he did care about Harbor, but they were friends, that was all Harbor and Harold were to one another, friends! They hadn't slept together recently, didn't go on dates or call one another. She didn't love him. They were just friends, one of his precious few.

"Can we move on now?" He asked gently. "Are you accepting the shoes?"

"Unless you want to wear them." She teased against his ear.

Oh the mental image alone made him shudder. "Even if my leg would allow it, I think the answer would still be a resound no. "

Harbor separated from the hug to watch him a moment then closed the lid on the shoe box and went back to her food like they hadn't just had a strange version of a heart-to-heart. Finch and Harbor did denial quite well – but of course he'd deny that. Finch was fully aware that Harbor compartmentalized far too well. She'd shoved all her worries and concerns from a few moments ago and inside, split them all up into little boxes where they made sense to her and locked them away. Just another quirk of how her brain was wired. As long as she didn't start dividing people into 'all good' and 'all bad' Harold thought they'd be alright. He's seen one of her weaknesses, one of her vulnerabilities.

Harbor rested her hand atop his then and his mind returned to the diner.

"So?"

"Sorry, what?" He hoped she'd not been speaking too long; would have seemed rude.

"Do you want to come book shopping with me?"

Oh that did sound nice but he couldn't.

"I'm sorry Harbor, no." The birthday girl deflated. "I have work that is rather pressing."

She nodded. "Ahh, you, Smiles and Badass are off to save the day."

"I suppose so. However, I do have a reason other than your birthday for coming."

Harbor raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows then and clearly the remains of her pancakes were forgotten.

Harold paused a moment as he wondered if he should actually ask or not. "There's a man by the name of Luc Boucheron, a French national, who is here to negotiate a deal between his father's company and Anglo Development."

"Did you get his Number like you got mine?" She asked suddenly concerned.

Finch nodded. "Yes. We don't know if he's the victim or the perpetrator and he'll not be in New York very long so whatever is going to happen is going to happen soon."

"What do you need me to do?" Said Harbor without hesitation. "If you're telling me all this then, Mister I'm a private person, needs me to help. So, tell me how to help."

He was thankful for it but why did she always want to help him? He shuffled in closer so they'd not be overheard.

"Last night there was a fund raiser where Miss Shaw attempted to befriend and accompany him back to his penthouse. However-"

"Sameen isn't really the sultry type." She cut him off. "Go on."

Harold had become increasingly aware that she called Miss Shaw by her first name more often that not and wondered just how close the two women had actually gotten.

"Indeed. Anyway, it has come to our attention that he has a … shall we say predilection for expensive escorts."

Harbor grinned. "And you came to your friendly neighborhood whore. Yeah, I see where this is going."

"There is a hard drive in the office of his penthouse, don't ask how I know, and I need to know what's on it and why it is so important. Security is too tight for Mister Reese and Miss Shaw to get it and he's already seen Miss Shaw, of course."

"And Smiles isn't his type."

"Regrettably not, no." Hank sighed deeply. "I am so sorry to ask an, of course, you are more than welcome to refuse, but, would you please get that hard drive? You'd just have to copy it and bring it back to me. Mister Reese and Miss Shaw will be in the hotel lobby and I'll be monitoring so you won't be alone. We have a lady by the name of Zoe Morgan who we would ask but she's informed us that they've met before and aren't on the best of terms. Also, she's a – not to sound rude – a little old for his tastes."

Harbor tapped a finger on her chin in a stereotypical display of thinking about it. "Seduce a guy and get into his hotel room. Hmm, sounds like a boring Thursday if you ask me."

"Is that a yes?" He inquired hopefully.

Harbor nodded. "You saved my life, so yes, I'll help you save someone else's."

Harold breathed out a sigh of relief and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. "Thank you." Blue eyes looked her up and down a moment. "You know what, I think I can make some time to go book shopping with you. It is your birthday after all."

There was that bold grin again. Gods, Harbor was beautiful when she smiled.