Prompt from lea_hazel: Any, any, bonfire night. Everybody Lives AU.

Bonfire Night

November 5, 2015

"Isn't this a British tradition?" Ms. Shaw asked as she heaved her burden onto the pile.

"Humor me," said John and slammed a stack of pallets into place.

Harold understood. New York—indeed, the world—had gone through harrowing times in the last four years and had come perilously close to the sort of upheaval that would have resulted had Guy Fawkes actually lit the fuse in 1605. So when John had suggested that they all come out here to have a bonfire, Harold had agreed that it might be cathartic, although he had drawn the line at actual effigies. He'd suggested the compromise of painting names on boards, which Taylor Carter and Lee Fusco were now busily doing. (The name "Guy Fawkes" was not among them, despite the date; this exercise was purely personal.)

Harold had supplied the location, far enough upstate that no one would ask questions. Elias had supplied the wood, and Mr. Marconi was bickering good-naturedly with Det. Fusco as the two of them helped John and Ms. Shaw build the bonfire. Ms. Groves was minding the torch—which Det. Fusco had grumbled about being a serious error in judgment, but she was on her best behavior so far—while Det. Carter, Ms. Morgan, and Grace looked after the thermos jugs of tea, coffee, and cocoa and chatted about the weather. And Harold sat by in a camp chair, petting Bear's head and watching the proceedings.

"You sure one torch is enough?" Elias asked, sitting down beside him in a camp chair of his own.

"Mr. Reese and Ms. Shaw each brought several large cans of kerosene," Harold replied. "I believe it will be quite enough for the fire to catch."

Elias chuckled. "Leave it to the professionals, huh?"

Harold smiled at him, amused.

After a moment, Elias' smile dimmed slightly. "I'm not sure I ever said thank you."

Harold blinked in surprise. "For what?"

"Everything. Saving my life, saving Anthony's life, helping us take down Dominic, hiding us from Samaritan. Being probably the best chess partner I'll ever have." Elias looked at him steadily. "I owe you and John more than I can ever repay."

"Your own aid has been invaluable the last year or so," Harold admitted. "So I'm not sure the ledger is as unbalanced as you think."

"Still. I'm grateful."

"As am I."

They sat in silence a while until the bonfire was finished and John, Ms. Shaw, and Mr. Marconi set about soaking it thoroughly with kerosene. They finished about the same time the boys finished the signs, which the fire builders then placed: Mr. Marconi the one labeled Dominic, Det. Fusco HR, Ms. Shaw Decima, and John Samaritan. Then they stepped back, and John motioned to Ms. Groves, who picked up the torch and started toward the bonfire... but stopped.

"No," she said, turned, and held the torch out toward Harold. "You do the honors, Harry."

Harold hesitated a moment, then nodded firmly and let Elias help him up. He accepted the torch from Ms. Groves with a brief smile, but as he limped toward the bonfire, the memories of everything that had happened in the recent past crowded around him like ghosts, the more so the longer he stared at the Samaritan sign, which John had hung at Harold's own eye level. Suddenly overwhelmed with grief and rage, Harold thrust the blazing torch into the pyre just below the sign and felt a vicious glee when both the dry sign and the wetted wood around it caught fire immediately.

"That's for Arthur," he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek, "and for us, and for what you did to Grace." He paused, then added even more softly, "And for the Machine."

John touched Harold's back, which prompted him to step back from the growing inferno. Then he sensed someone else beside him, and he turned straight into a hug from Grace. When she finally let him go, she and John guided him back to his seat, where Bear licked the tears off his face. Harold spluttered and wiped his face with his handkerchief, and everyone else laughed, which lightened the mood considerably. Ms. Morgan began distributing drinks, and the boys, no longer on sign duty, dug into the crateload of snacks that Grace had brought. Ms. Shaw tried to eat a cupcake whole and nearly managed it; the remainder fell on the ground, and Bear snarfed it down before Harold could stop him. Mr. Marconi, meanwhile, disappeared into the darkness and returned with a case of beer, of which Elias, Ms. Shaw, and himself partook.

"I took a video for you-know-who," Ms. Groves told Harold. "She said to tell you, 'Good job and thank you.'"

Harold could only smile, and John rubbed his shoulder in understanding.

The fire reached the HR sign at that point, and Det. Fusco and Det. Carter, who had drifted toward each other while watching tensely, sighed and relaxed and toasted each other with their cups of coffee. Then they joined the circle forming around Harold's chair, Joss walking into a side hug from John and Det. Fusco swiping the cupcake tray from his son to share around.

"Hey, you know somethin'?" Det. Fusco asked, offering the tray to John. "This really was a good idea."

John smiled and raised a cupcake in salute, and as Grace put an arm around Harold's shoulders, Harold relaxed against her with a smile of his own.