Rest In Peace, the Great Robin Williams. A man of great talent and great sadness, may he be remembered for the way he made people feel. Only the Good Die Young.

Elias pushed his roughly into his small bedroom. He landed on the bed, Elias grabbed his wrist and twisted it around his back and tied his hands together. The bed was hard and cold, the rough sheets scraped at his skin. Elias pushed his head into the bed and looped his thumbs in his belt loops, he pulled them down sharply. He knew what Elias was going to do and he was powerless to stop it. He left a heavy weight on his legs and the bed, a sharp relentless pain. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He wanted this to be over, he tried to make his mind go other places. He was thrown onto his back, two large hands clamped around his throat. Elias grunted above him then left him. He was broken. He laid there wishing the world would end.

Harold led John into the bathroom and sat him in the bottom of the shower. Harold turned it on. This was the comedown: John's heart rate would spike and his temperature would rise sharply. He needed to be kept cool. John groaned against the water, his t-shirt stuck to his toned chest. Harold looked at him, he felt sorry for John and knew that this was his fault. If he hadn't shouted at John over something so petty, if he was honest with John they wouldn't even be here. Harold shrugged off his coat and jacket and slipped off his shoes, he put his glasses next to the sink. He sat next to John in the bottom of the shower and pulled John's head onto his shoulder. His wet clothes clung to him uncomfortably.

'John, I don't know if you're listening to me but I want you to know I'm sorry. You were only trying to help me and I should have told you everything. That person who was here, I created them. Before TyRon, I knew that the human race needed to change so I stole children. Children with no families, children who wouldn't be missed. I experimented on them, to speed up the evolution process. I made them faster and stronger, but they died young. Most of them died during the experiments and those who did survive died alone and painfully. Their bodies would start to decay from the inside out. One of them has survived, she still lives among us.'

'Elias's slave.' Muttered John.

'Yeah. Shaw. I didn't realise what she was till she ran into the church.' John shifted and relaxed against Harold again. 'John. I'm so sorry. I should have told you, I feel so guilty – this is my fault. I have caused you so much, and I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me.'

Joss walked to the bathroom with a tray of drinks in her hand. The door was ajar slightly, as she approached she heard a hushed whispering. She stopped and peaked through the gap between the door and the frame. John sat up and looked at Harold, he rest his hand against his cheek and kissed him. The cold water ran over their faces and their hot lips. Harold melted into the kiss. John broke the kiss and rested his forehead on Harold's.

'If you can forgive me, I can forgive you. I was stupid and foolish to take it. I'm so sorry.'

Harold's lips found John's again. It was such a beautiful sight. The sight resonated a feeling deep inside Joss's heart. She turned away back to the kitchen. She had intruded for long enough anyway. Joss stood in the kitchen, she thought about the scene she'd just witnessed. True, honest love. Something she hadn't felt since she was a little six year old girl: her mother kissed her goodbye. Joss watched as she was dragged away by Larrelle's. She didn't understand what was going on at the time so she stared blankly. Joss brought herself back to the now. She decided to take a tour of the apartment. She walked out onto the balcony and looked over the city, it had its own strange kind of beauty. She didn't feel happy. She walked back inside and checked the rooms at the back of the penthouse: a bedroom, an office, she already knew where the bathroom was. She turned the corner and walked along a corridor. She saw a door that peaked her curiosity: large, ancient, mahogany by the looks of it. She pushed down on the handle but it didn't open. She tried again.

'It won't open Joss.'

Joss instinctually grabbed her gun and spun around, pointing it at Harold. He stood before her dressed in black slacks and a white linen shirt. His hair was still damp and spiking in every direction. He leaned heavily on his left leg. Joss lowered her gun and slipped it back into her trousers.

'Sorry. Instinct. I didn't hear you coming.' She apologized. 'What's behind here?'

'Nothing of any concern.' Harold turned around and started walking back up the corridor.

'Don't make the same mistake with me.'

Harold stopped, he paused before turning around slowly. His gaze was long and determined. 'I won't. I am a very private person and you and John are very different people. I spread my dreams beneath your feet, tread carefully.' Harold turned back around and walked back to the main living area. Joss watched him go. Harold Finch was a complex mix of lies, pretences and personas. His last sentence hung heavily on her mind. I spread my dreams beneath your feet, tread carefully. Time was, Harold's dream was a have a world with no conflicts. That's why he created TyRon – he saw how the heart of every conflict was human emotion so he got rid of it. Now that dream had been achieved she wondered what his new dream was. Harold was the richest man in the State, quite possibly the country, he could buy anything he wanted. What did Joss have that he could possibly want? She gripped the way as a wave of nausea washed over her, her knees buckled beneath her, she sat on the floor. She was so confused. Harold Finch had given her a place where she was free to feel but hadn't asked for anything in return, but the coldness in his eyes and voice has awakened some human reaction within her. There were some things he wasn't about to share and the answer to one lay behind the door. The short man with the spikey hair intrigued but also scared her. Her heart and breathing raced. What did this man want? Her trance was broken by the arrival of John. He stood in the corridor dressed in black linen trousers and a navy tank top.

'You ok?' he asked.

'Yeah, just adjusting to this, that's all.'

'Thank you for helping me earlier and sorry I tried to shoot you.'

Joss laughed and her pushed herself up. 'Hey, don't worry about it. I would have done the very same thing.' Joss stood with her back against the wall, silence grew between them. 'So Finch huh?'

John's lips broke into a smile, he laughed under his breath. 'Yeah Finch.'

They laughed nervously again. 'He's unique.'

'Yeah he is.'

'John?' she said in a more serious tone. John's smiled dropped and he looked at her, eyes yearning. 'Do you know who he is?'

John paused for a long time. 'No, but he saved my life so I don't question him. Why do you ask?'

'Oh it's nothing. See you around.'

Joss walked past John as he headed back to the main living area. John hesitated before walking further down the corridor. He found more bedrooms, rooms lined with suits, a gym, a pool and a shooting range. John opened the door to the shooting range and turned on the lights. In front of him the room dwarfed him. It was as big as a sports hall and down the far end were some human shaped targets, in front of John stood a few tables lined with various guns and other weapons including cross bows and small knives. He walked up to the desk and ran his fingertips down the length of a gun. He picked it up and weighed it in his hand: 17cm of plastic and metal. 9 mm and 17 rounds, resting in the magazine. The handle is large and moulded into shape. It was heavy in his hand, John looked down at it: no safety catch – professionals don't need safety catches. He pointed the barrel at the ground and read the number imprinted on the base: 1456, his number. He brought the gun back up and held it at arm's length. He squeezed the handle, he brought his other hand to grip the base of the gun. His index finger danced lightly over the trigger, he pulled it. Five bullets rung out. This felt good. John walked around the tables and started firing again, he efficiently moved around the room, he rolled onto the ground and stood up again as the last bullet left the barrel.

'You look so hot moving like that.' Came a breathy voice. John turned around to see Harold stood in the doorway, he smiled at him. 'Food's ready.'

John walked back to the table, he dropped the empty magazine out the gun and laid both items on the table. He walked over to Harold and they exited the room. Harold pulled the door closed. They walked through the corridors back to the main area. Harold hooked his arm in John's.

'Are you feeling better?'

'Yes. Although Carter is a little bit sceptical of you.'

Harold shrugged. 'I don't blame her, everything has changed so quickly for her. I am the last person you'd think an offender.'

They turned into the living area. Joss was sat the kitchen island breakfast bar eating a stir fry. The two men joined her and picked up their chop sticks.