Harbor had hated having to write down the consents of her head, every single word had been hideous and despicable. However, if she didn't make them a copy what had been the point in going to Boucheron's penthouse in the first place? She'd sat there at the safehouse dining table right beside Finch as he combed through the hard drive files she'd gotten for him while Shaw and Reese just sat patiently in a corner waiting. Finch had kindly had steaming coffee sat waiting for her when they'd returned and she'd been about to request something stronger when a waft of bourbon had reached her; damn that man knew her. With help from her adult coffee and her proximity to the suit clad genius she'd managed to get down every single word.

They hadn't got the hard copies but they had the information and from that Harold could find everything he needed to destroy and imprison Luc Boucheron. Stop any other child suffering through this nightmare.

The four of them had hardly spoken that evening, only the sounds of a pen scratching against paper, Hank's fingers on his laptop and the occasional loud breath from Reese punctuated the silence. If it was just their usual routine or if the discovery of a monster kept them quiet Harbor didn't know. Perhaps it didn't matter.

Eventually she'd finished and her wrist ached from writing. Harbor let the pen fall from her hand and neatly stacked the pages then pushed them towards the others that Reese and Shaw had been reading. A quick glance confirmed the hushed ire that bubbled away inside the gray-haired man. Shaw – as usual – was harder to read but Harbor knew her friend, knew if anything would get an emotional reaction out of her it was someone hurting kids.

Hank's blue eyes flashed over to the sheets of paper soon after she'd finished and widened at their quantity. It wasn't that he was surprised by how much Harbor had managed to store in her mind so fast, no, what had those baby blues widening was the knowledge that this wasn't just a handful of children but a carefully planned organization. 'People are fucking insane' they heard Sameen mutter under her breath.

After looking at his watch and thanking Harbor for agreeing to help them he insisted upon driving her home. She could have gotten home by herself but sitting in Harold's big, warm, Lincoln Town Car sounded rather pleasant in that moment. She'd given the ex-agents a little wave then let Harold guide her down to his sleek car almost in total silence. He held the passenger door for her like the perfect gentleman he was and then they were travelling along street after street with little more than the moon and his headlights to guide their way.

"I am so sorry you had to see all of that, Harbor." He told her honestly after a short time; his eyes never left the road.

Harbor sighed as she stared out the window at the dark buildings. "It's alright, Hank. I'm okay. It's just … adults killing and hurting adults I can understand, what I don't get is how people can harm children so easily."

Finch found himself thinking about Harbor's past and supposed it had been so confusing for a teenager to find the world so suddenly violent towards her for no reason. How could a child have fathomed that?

"I honestly don't understand it myself. I won't pretend to be a superhero, I try to be a good man but I know I've done bad things, illegal things, immoral things-"

Harbor's head snapped to him in the driver's seat. "You are a good man, Hank. Please don't ever forget that."

He felt his heart swell with happiness at that but found himself changing the subject quickly, this wasn't about him.

"Will you ever be able to forget?" He asked as they turned a corner. "Do you have any way of getting rid of what you saw?"

"I don't have a trash file, Harold." She said in jest, a tiny smile appeared on her lips. "I can't forget it, no. I can bury it though." Hank cocked an eyebrow. "It's like forgetting a scene in your favorite movie and then when you watch the movie again you wonder how you ever forgotit. The information is still there but it's not at the forefront of your mind. I can push it down but some things will bring it back again. Don't worry, Hank, I'm not going to be haunted by it."

God he hoped not. Her building came into sight then and Harold parked out front easily enough. He got out and rounded the car so he could open the passenger door for her but, after a moment, when she'd still made no attempt to move he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Harbor had always brushed over it but they all knew she'd been raped while under her foster parents' care. Frankly, Harold suspected that was why she compartmentalized so well.

The world seemed to return to the raven-haired beauty then and she stepped out of the car. Even now in the darkness of night she looked beautiful in her dress and shoes; his shoes. She flashed him a smile, that stunning smile that made Harold feel like everything would be alright, that smile would have had the same effect on him even if the world had been burning all around them. In a way he thought of her as a phoenix, something pure and beautiful which had risen from ash and destruction. Was this perfection personified?

"I'll walk you up."

Harbor shook her head. "No, thank you, but you have things to do and don't think I haven't noticed you limping more because you've been in one position all night." Always so perceptive. "I'll be alright, besides the elevator is still broken. Go eat because I know you haven't."

He flashed her a smile but and nodded, he knew she needed some time alone. He closed the passenger door softly but when he turned back to Harbor she grabbed him by the tie and pulled him to her for a deep kiss. Their tongues mingled a time and, like muscle memory, Harold's hands found Harbor's inviting curves. When they finally broke apart for air she rested her forehead against his with eyes closed and he couldn't resist brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"What did I do to deserve that?" The suit clad man asked to lighten the mood.

Harbor let the silence linger between them a few seconds. "Boucheron insisted on kissing me, I said I don't do that when I'm working but he didn't take no for an answer and we needed all that information so I just let him. I don't like how he tastes. I like how you taste though." Had the situation been happier he'd have filled with an animalistic pride. "Also, I smell of champagne and fils de pute."

Harold just stood there a while with the prostitute in his arms, his French wasn't nearly as good as Harbor's but Hank got the message she wasn't happy loud and clear. She'd told him not to come up with her, that he didn't have to, but in that split second Harold knew he'd walk her up. He needed her to know she wasn't just a tool to be used then tossed back in the box for next time. Harbor didn't make a single complaint as they headed inside and up the stairs. Harold limped and about half way Harbor had slipped of her shoes and continued bare foot. Finch wasn't overly tall himself so he found he actually liked her without her high heels on, Harbor seemed almost tiny like he could just wrap her up and keep her safe forever. She was still taller than Sameen Shaw but not by much.

When they reached her door she asked him to hold her shoes which he kindly did so Harbor could open the door. Once they were inside he set them neatly down on the floor beside the couch but when he looked up, mouth open to ask a question, he just found her throwing her dress off onto the floor like she hated it. The raven-haired beauty made no attempt to go and change just sat down on the sofa in her underwear; Finch found he carefully fell into the spot beside her. The younger woman easily shuffled into his lap without a single word passed between them, she wasn't making a pass at him, all she wanted was his comfort.

Again Harold slipped his arms around her, kept the girl close for which she was grateful. She rested her head against his right shoulder while her hands absent-mindedly played with his tie; a trivial action he allowed her. They didn't speak, that wasn't needed, he just let her sit and find comfort. In truth, Harold doubted Harbor had found real safety anywhere or from anyone since her father had died.

Despite being there to provide solace he was still a man with interests and needs. Soon his blue eyes started to caress her half-naked form, black satin lingerie and stockings that would make a man beg. How could a woman be so innocent and yet so fierce all at the same time? The calloused fingers of one hand drew mindless patterns across her thigh just above the lace tops of her stockings – a voice at the back of his head demanded more but Harold silenced his id.

Ten minutes turned into an hour, then an hour into two until eventually Harbor fell asleep in his arms just as silently as she'd been sat. It took him a moment to even notice her sudden slumber, but when he did Harold pressed a tiny kiss to the top of her head.

His leg and hip hated lifting her bridal style but he'd done it before and it wasn't as if Harbor was heavy. His pain levels could shut up just as his id had. Harold lay Harbor down on her bed and rolled her stockings down her legs then set them neatly on the bureau before he covered her over in soft gray sheets. For a moment blue orbs watched as her chest lightly rose and fell like a sleeping angel, then, oh so quietly, he removed himself from her apartment locking the door behind himself with his own key.

Finch would make certain that Luc Boucheron and everyone else who was part of his little ring of monsters paid for their crimes, that those children had justice. Harbor had gotten them the information they needed – information they'd not known they needed – and now it was up to Finch, Mister Reese and Miss Shaw to drive it home. They'd make a case so water tight that no court could go against it and he was sure his friendly ex-agents would want to personally go and get the kids. Fusco was going to have a field day with this one.

Violence wasn't part of Harold's philosophy, or at least he didn't want it to be, but if anyone deserved to suffer and hurt he was fairly certain it should be Luc Boucheron. Harbor had been right, adults hurting and killing adults made sense, that was part of our nature, but children were innocents. Pure. Children didn't deserve such monstrous acts.