A/N: Heartfelt thanks to my dear beta reader Lisquirt for all her improvements to this story! I had some difficulties to express myself properly here and she just understood what I wanted to say and wrote it down for me!
This can be seen as Reese & Finch friendship or Reese/Finch as you like.
Warning: Anxiety, desperation and suicidal thoughts.
Numb. That was all he felt. Completely numb.
Even the pain in his shoulder had faded. He prodded at it, partly just to feel something, partly to punish himself. He deserved pain, physical and emotional pain.
For what he had done or maybe for what he hadn't done. He wasn't sure. But what he was sure of, was that he knew it was all his fault. He had caused what had been happening and he had caused the misery of his friends and his own. He caused the need for all of them to disappear from the surface and go different paths. Miss Groves, Miss Shaw and John. They weren't safe because of him. If something happened to one of them… if something happened to John… he'd never forgive himself.
As he had sat down on this chair, some hours ago, these thoughts had filled his mind. Suddenly, the fear for John had overwhelmed him, suffocating him. He couldn't breathe, his heart raced and he started to hyperventilate. Bear had felt his distress and pressed his body comfortingly against his leg and licked his trembling hand. Harold had concentrated on the soothing gesture and let himself be grounded by the dog's presence. Slowly, he calmed down and after some time his breathing had become even again. He whispered "thank you" to his patient dog and patted him gratefully.
With all his emotions drained out, he now felt only emptiness.
There weren't any tears. Not anymore. No desperation, no anger, not even fear.
Nothing was left.
He sat there, staring blankly into the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn't find the energy to stand up, make himself a cup of tea or just go to bed.
He couldn't find the energy to do anything.
What for?
There wasn't anything in his life that mattered anymore. In his life… He didn't have a life anymore.
"You're not a free man anymore, Harold. You're just a number."
All had been taken away from him. Everything that mattered to him, everyone that he cared for. The purpose that had justified his being alive for the last few years. Their mission. Nathan's mission.
Gone.
The one person that would always give him a reason to go on, that had initiated his ability to trust again. The person that knew him, really knew him, like no one else ever did. The one that would always come for him.
Gone.
Why not end it now?
This thought wasn't completely new to him; it had accompanied him for quite a while after Nathan's death. He truly wished that he'd have died too, back then. The loss of his best and only real friend at that time, the guilt that lay heavy on his shoulders and the pain of leaving his beloved Grace behind had left him devastated. Only his wish to continue Nathan's mission kept him alive at that point.
Then John had come into his life. With John, everything had gotten better. Not that the pain and guilt disappeared; they were still there, lingering in the background. But they had become bearable.
Pain and guilt weren't the only things that mattered in his life anymore. Now, there were new things - good things! Being able to help save the numbers being the most important one. What he had said to John was also true for him: He had a new purpose in his life and together with John, he could pursue it. Well, he knew that in fact it was John who physically saved the numbers and did everything that he himself wasn't capable of, but at least he could help.
To him, that was also important, that he wasn't completely useless anymore.
Then the impossible happened: a new friendship had developed. Oh so slowly and cautiously, but suddenly so strong that it was worth risking everything for it: his life, the numbers, everything.
First, he cautiously learned to trust, always expecting to get betrayed and hurt yet again. When the hurt never came, he slowly gave more and more until at some point, it occurred to him that he had given it to his companion completely, without a doubt and unhesitating. He could not define that certain moment when it happened. It just did. And since then he had trusted him with his life.
But without this friendship, without John, there was no reason to live.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Sometime at the crack of dawn, the next morning, he woke up in a half sitting position in the chair with his head on the table in front of him.
It hurt. Everything hurt.
But it wasn't the ache in his abused body - his stiff back and hip stinging like hell from being forced to stay in that uncomfortable position for too long – nor was it the fresh wound on his shoulder - not cared for anymore and still bleeding through the bandage applied by John – it weren't these physical pains that knocked the breath out of him.
The hurting that exaggerated everything else was caused by emotional pain. The numbness was gone, replaced by desperation and the deepest sadness, regret and loneliness.
He hurt.
Tears shot in his eyes and soft whimpers left his mouth as he sobbed quietly.
Bear was at his side immediately. He hadn't left him for a second since they had separated from John. He had watched over him and slept at his feet. Now he nuzzled his head into Harold's lap and whined. Harold laid his hand on the dog's head to reassure him but his face was still buried in his other hand and he couldn't stop the desperate sobs that shook his body.
The first moment he woke up, he unconsciously expected to be in the library. Surely he had fallen asleep again over his work, laying with his head on his desk, and now John was there waking him up to scold him about this unhealthy habit of his.
But this wasn't the library.
The library was gone.
As were his desk and computers, his books, the glass board, his list with all the lost chances, the photos of people lost and people saved. The remembrance of Nathan's belief and courage that had inspired all of this: Harold's mission that had become John's too. The memories of his life with John, the times they'd shared.
All was lost.
Harold closed his eyes.
He wasn't in the library and there was no John. He had nearly felt his presence beside him, the scent of Sencha green tea that his partner would have placed on the desk, he'd expected John's hand on his shoulder, cautiously waking him up. But John wasn't there.
He was alone.
The last thought that had been in his head before he'd fallen asleep occurred to him, again.
Without John, there was no reason to live.
He felt so lonely, completely alone in the world, forever separated from the most important person in his life. His friend, his companion.
Bear nuzzled his hand with his snout. Harold looked at him. It was evident Bear missed John as he did. He had to be there for Bear. He couldn't let the dog down, he had always been a faithful companion to them. John had wanted Bear to be his surrogate in protecting Harold when he couldn't be there.
How lonely must John feel having nobody with him? John was completely alone. A pang of selfishness hit Harold. He at least had Bear and yet was complaining. He should be grateful.
Yes, he should be grateful. Not only for his canine protector. He should be grateful for everything John had done for him… for John saving him. He couldn't throw away his life that John had saved, protected with his own. Without John he wouldn't be here anymore. He'd have surely died by one of the many bullets triggered by Decima's men that night.
But John had come after him and got him to safety, as always. Even if Harold thought that he wasn't worth that deed. John's effort would be completely futile now if Harold ended his life. He couldn't do this, he had to go on to honor the gift John had given to him – The gift of his very life. He decided he had to survive or at least try his best.
"This was never about winning. It was just about surviving."
Survival. Even if there wasn't a chance he'd ever see John again, he knew that that was what John would want him to do.
To go on. And damn if he didn't owe John his greatest effort to do so.
He knew he couldn't contact John ever again without the chance of putting his friend's life in danger. Though sometimes he wondered if the opportunity presented itself, a small risk someday might shed the slightest ray of hope. Maybe someday things would change, maybe get better again, maybe there was the tiniest chance he could see him again, one day.
And that would be worth every effort.
"I don't know if it'll get better, but it's going to get worse."
Nobody knew if their situation would get better someday. Harold didn't see how it could improve. Nor did he know what part he could play in helping it get better.
Their last days together had been going on a downwards spiral. The worst had happened. Now he believed to have reached the lowest point. And he didn't know if that would ever change again. But if there really was only the ghost of a chance, he couldn't throw away that possibility. He had to go on to be able to grab that chance if it should present itself somewhere in his future.
"When everything is over, when the worst has happened, there's still one thing left in Pandora's Box: hope."
Hope.
The slightest ray of hope.
He couldn't surrender. Hope was all that was left to him. And it was all that mattered now.
He wouldn't give up. He would go on. For John.
What I 've wanted: A fanfic about our boys getting back together that would comfort me.
What I've written: A fanfic about them being apart that made me nearly cry while writing it.
Mission failed.
This is a story that I've written in a kind of delirious state after the season finale. I wanted it to be published before the beginning of Season 4 because it'll be jossed by then, I guess. So, I'll do that now at the very last minute - like I do everything, by the way...
Again, I'm not a native English speaker, so please be kind.