CHAPTER 29

Landing in Rome, Iris and Reese were both stiff from the long flight. They waited until everyone was off the plane before they got up. John moved slowly with his cane and Iris gathered their one carry-on piece of luggage. Walking behind him, she was concerned with the pronounced limp he displayed. Hopefully she could talk him into going to the hotel first. ...but she doubted it.

Iris had been in contact with Grace via email since Harold had gone to Rome. She had felt the need, at the time, to keep tabs on him. Having gotten to know Harold through their talks, she had come to love and admire him. She wanted to be available if he had any setbacks. Getting Harold to give her Grace's email had been difficult. He had told her before he left that he was dropping completely off the grid with Grace. She knew it was due to the years and years he'd spent hiding in anonymity rather than being a reflection of a lack of trust in her; so she knew not to take it personally. It was only after she'd reminded him that at some point, Grace might need a confidant to help deal with the emotions his return was bound to stir up, did he relent. Iris knew better than to tell Harold that she was primarily concerned for his well-being, rather she invoked his feelings for Grace to get him to agree to the arrangement.

So Iris, despite never having met Grace, had gotten to know her through emails over the last couple of months. Iris couldn't help but admire the woman's strength and compassion. Grace had somehow managed to carve out a life for herself despite the hole in her heart that Harold's 'death' had caused. Iris was only too aware of the fact that she had almost shared the same fate with John's death.

At least every other week Iris would get an email from Grace detailing how Harold was doing and adjusting to life. It had been Grace's concern about the deep sadness she sensed in Harold that made her reach out to Iris for help. After finding out that John had survived, it had been very difficult not to confide in Grace about it, knowing how much it would have helped Harold. But her primary concern had been for John once they'd found him.

Iris had emailed Grace that she would be in Rome for a few days and made plans to meet her and Harold for an early dinner. Grace suggested a restaurant that she and Harold frequented. Iris had concerns about how the meeting between John and Harold would go down. She was torn between having it private, inside out of the way of most diners or outside in the sidewalk dining area. Knowing how skittish John seemed to be in closed-in areas, she chose to request they dine outside. She did not tell Grace about John even then. She knew Harold would have a very strong emotional reaction to the news of John's survival and she wanted to be there in person to help him work through it all. So in the end, all she'd mentioned was that she had something special for Harold.

After landing, Iris and John found they had a few hours before meeting Harold and Grace for dinner. Iris made the decision for them to go to the hotel first. John was limping badly due to fatigue and wasn't really up to arguing. He could shower and relax with his leg up at the hotel. She reminded him that no matter what happened between him and Harold, it was going to be an emotional time for them both and he needed to be at his best.

Grace and Harold walked slowly toward the cafe where they were meeting Iris for dinner. Harold had been pleased that she wanted to see him and finally meet Grace. He knew they had been corresponding. The late afternoon crowd was thinning out and it had been easy to get a table in the sidewalk area.

Harold loved to watch the people. He and Grace would make up stories about different people that caught their eye. For Harold it was a welcome relief to just know that the people he saw were just ordinary people. He had been so used to looking only at the people the Machine directed him to, used to looking for the small clues that would tell him if they were a victim or a perpetrator. But now, he could just look at whomever caught his eye. Grace looked at the different people walking about from an artist's perspective; seeing different facial features stand out on people or their style of clothes. Their conversations were light and casual. He and Grace took turns making each other laugh.

Harold never tired of looking at her. Even after these last couple of months, being with her day and night, he could not get enough of her. He had loved her from a distance for so, so long. So many years lost that they could never retrieve...he felt that empty ache starting again. He fought against it. Refusing to stay in the past...a past that he could not change. Just like he could not change the fact that John had sacrificed himself and any hope he would ever be able to find a place where he was finally at peace with himself and the things he'd done...John sacrificed himself for HIM. That thought brought up a sadness that had no ending. He knew that John was a good friend and that he'd told him right from the beginning that they would both likely wind up dead. But he hadn't expected to end up caring so much about the man nor to be so strongly affected by his death. Harold had thought that HE would be the one to die. That HE would not be alive to mourn the loss of such a good friend. Someone who was actually closer than the word friend could ever convey.

Watching his thoughts move across his face, Grace knew he was thinking about John again. There was a certain look, a certain degree of sadness that was completely different from anything else she'd experienced with Harold. She knew he missed his friends in NYC. He spoke of them often. Sameen had called twice. Rather short conversations. She wasn't a chatty person. Lionel had called a couple of more times and Harold seemed to enjoy those conversations. But there was always a shadow of deep sadness behind Harold's eyes.

He had tried to explain to Grace about John. About their friendship, their working relationship. He had even told her how they'd met. That surprised her greatly, but there had obviously been a strong connection between the two of them...if John had been willing to give his life to save Harold and if Harold was still mourning months later.

She reached across the table to clasp both of his hands in hers. Pulling his attention to her and out of the past that haunted him, he smiled. Grace's returning smile made things alright again.

Over Harold's shoulder she saw a woman walking toward them. She was with a man who was walking slowly with a cane. There was something that caught her eye, keeping her attention focused on them. Grace had never met Iris but Harold had described her. Long, reddish gold hair and tall. The smile on the woman's face as she spotted Grace made her realize that had to be Iris. But who was that with her? The closer they got, the more clearly she could see the man. He looked familiar to her. The gray hair was not familiar but his face was. Suddenly she did recognize him. Her hands tightened on Harold's hands in shock, tight enough to make Harold wince. Seeing the shocked look on her face alarmed Harold.

He stiffly turned around to see what had upset Grace. By then, the couple had stopped near them.

"Hello, Harold." said the tall man leaning heavily on a cane.

John had been ready to leave almost as soon as they got checked in to the hotel. Iris seriously considered hiding his cane to keep him IN the hotel. But she was worried that he would try to go out without it. Trying to use logic didn't work too well either. She explained that their dinner reservation wasn't for another 2 hours so there was time to rest and freshen up.

Iris finally got John to take a shower and into fresh clothes. She let him go first because she was worried he'd bolt if she went first. Once he was out of the shower and dressed, he relaxed on the bed. Within a few minutes he was out. She'd figured that's how it would work. Now she could take her time to get showered and ready for the meeting of a lifetime.

The taxi dropped them off less than a block from the cafe. John wanted to walk but she knew he wouldn't do well to walk very far. They enjoyed the sights and sounds of everyday life in Rome. The constant honking of cars, the little Fiats dodging in and out of tight traffic spots. The rapid fire, animated Italian floated around them. It was almost like walking IN a movie.

As they got closer to the cafe, Iris slipped her arm into John's right arm, holding it tight. His walk was slow and measured. Being very careful to not overburden his weaker left leg, he leaned heavily on the cane in his left hand. His eyes were searching for that one person that he'd come across an ocean to see.

John saw Grace first. She was facing him. He saw her smile at Iris. His heart began to pound in his chest. His breathing was slightly labored. He recognized the spiky hair of the man who sat with his back to them. It was grayer than he remembered, but then so was his, he thought ruefully.

Iris and John were about 5 feet from the table when the man turned around stiffly to see what Grace was staring at. Meeting Harold's shocked eyes, John almost stumbled as his bad leg just about gave out on him.

Harold. He was alive. He had survived. He knew that Iris, Zoe, Sameen, and Lionel…they had all told him that Harold had survived. But somewhere in the very back of his mind was that one small doubt that he was being told what he wanted to hear, not necessarily what was true. But there the man was. Right in front of him...alive. Getting himself under control was the hardest thing he had ever done...but he did it.

"Hello, Harold." He said, his voice gruff with emotion.

Harold looked straight into the eyes of the tall man in front of him. That voice was unmistakable. It was a voice that he'd thought he would never hear again.

"John?" was all that he could get out, and that barely in a whisper. "John?" He tried again.

Pulling his hands away from Grace's, he stood up slowly. Never taking his eyes off of the ghost in front of him. Because he had to be a ghost. He had died. Harold had seen him die. He had been killed by that cruise missile fired in a last desperate attempt by Samaritan! The building had crumbled. John Reese was dead. No one could have survived that! Not even John Reese.

And yet...here he was. Standing in front of him. Alive. Thinner, grayer but he still had that slight tilt to his head and that slightly off kilter smile.

"Yes Harold. It's me. I'm not dead." John said in his trademark whisper.

Looking away for a moment, John could almost see them both standing on that bank of the East river. A slight smile played across his face at the memory. A scrungy hobo talking to a man in an expensive three piece suit; not your normal job interview setting. Looking back at Harold, the love he felt for this man almost overpowered him. Even then, John had been able to see the goodness in Harold's eyes, before he'd known anything about the man and his crusade.

"You offered me a job once; you gave me a purpose." he said, bringing Harold into the moment of the memory. "But you never told me I'd like it. You said we'd probably end up dead." John raised his eyebrows with that telltale smirk on his face..

"But I DID like it and I believed in what we were doing. I believed in YOU." He paused to collect himself as his feelings for the man in front of him almost overwhelmed him. "But eventually, I got killed for it." Smiling at Harold he continued, " However, I DIDN'T like being dead. So here I am."

Harold reached up to touch John's shoulder. He took in everything about the man standing in front of him. The same gray eyes, the scruff that he usually wore was an actual beard now, the hair was longer and definitely more gray.

John felt a jolt when Harold reached over to touch him as if to ascertain that he was really here in front of him. He looked at Harold and saw what grief had done to him. Knowing that it was his 'death' that had caused the grief made it difficult for him to handle. Seeing the tears well up in Harold's eyes as he continued to look at John in wonder, John felt the tears in his own.

"John?" Harold whispered again as his knees felt weak. He could not seem to get enough air into his lungs to speak. His heart was pounding in his ear. Harold's knees buckled and he grabbed John's arms to hold himself up. "John. You're alive! You're not a ghost!"

Dropping his cane, John reached out and pulled Harold into a bear hug, swallowing the smaller man. Harold responded with a hug of his own. The two men hugged each other, reveling in the fact that they were BOTH alive. That they had not lost each other. That one had not died for the other. That they had both survived. It was in that minute that each man was finally able to forgive himself for the wrongs he had done, for the lives that had been lost as a result of his actions. Both men knew that those people, the men they had been, were dead and gone. With the help and friendship of each other, they knew that they could be good men once more.

Grace stood up and walked over to Iris. She realized that Iris was crying, just as she, herself was. With no words the two women hugged and watched the two men they loved most in the world become whole again, hopefully leaving that deep sadness behind once and for all.

Iris was watching John closely. He was always her center of attention. He was supporting himself and Harold with his bad leg. They really needed to sit down before they both fell down.

"John, why don't you and Harold have a seat? I think we will all be much more comfortable."

It took a moment for John to realize that Iris had spoken to him. He had been lost within himself, drowning in emotions that he had not been prepared for. Trying to find the words to say to Harold. But nothing would come. Words failed him.

Not trusting himself to speak, John nodded as he held onto a visibly shaken Harold.. Finally turning toward Iris, she was taken aback by the stricken look in his eyes. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe he wasn't strong enough for this yet. She retrieved his cane and handed it to him.

Grace stepped forward and helped guide them to the table where she and Harold had been sitting. Once John and Harold were seated, Grace looked over their heads at Iris with worried eyes. Iris just shook her head as she took the seat next to John.

Instead of the happiness that was expected, Harold seemed to crumble within himself. He held tight to John's arm, still staring in disbelief at the face of his friend that he had thought he lost. The face of his friend who died in his place. The grief that had kept him locked in a dark place, was closing in on him. He should have been happy, relieved, that John was alive….but instead he was floundering.

Grace laid her hand on Harold's arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. Harold looked down at her hand in surprise. Looking up into her face he seemed surprised to see her.

"Harold, what is it? Aren't you happy? John's here. John's alive….." she asked quietly. He continued to look at her in confusion. Looking back at John and then seeing Iris sitting next to him finally seemed to get through to him. Iris smiled at him but said nothing.

John kept watching Harold. The man sitting in front of him had changed. Not just physically. His inner fire seemed diminished. There was something missing.

John was having trouble dealing with the feelings that were overwhelming him. Seeing the changes in Harold that were due to his 'demise' was painful. The knowledge that they could have told Harold about his miraculous survival before now haunted him. Causing Harold any kind of suffering had always affected him greatly. It had been his JOB to protect Harold. He had saved him from Samaritan. But at what cost?

John placed his hand over Harold's where he had a death grip on his arm. He smiled grimly to himself thinking that description was a little too close to home.

Harold turned to look at John again. The confusion in his face changed to wonder as it registered that John really was here with him. He was not just a product of his wishful thinking.

Those gray eyes that saw so much but shared so little, had changed. They looked at him with no filters, no hidden thoughts. He felt like he was looking at the REAL John Reese. He may have died and come back to life, but he'd obviously left part of himself in the past and replaced it with something new. Glancing over at Iris he knew what it was…John had found his home in Iris and that normal life they had both dreamed of. She had saved John from himself like she had saved him.

Recognition of the miracle of John's survival and return was tempered with some bewilderment.

"How did you get The Machine to make a deal with you? I was its creator. I had a plan in place to take down Samaritan. We had already lost Root to that monster and I didn't want to lose anyone else because of me. I saw what it did to Sameen. Hell, I saw what it did to Root when we lost Sameen. No one else was going to die because of me. But YOU interfered. YOU went behind my back and made a deal with my creation!"

John looked at Harold. A slightly indignant Harold was much preferred to the almost catatonic Harold he'd been only a moment ago. Tilting his head slightly to one side he gave Harold a small smile. "YOU gave me that ability when you made me Admin when the Machine went into God Mode that time that Root kidnapped you. I never lost that access. Even after those 24 hours."

Watching Harold absorb that tidbit of information made John remember just how much this little man with his shock of brown hair, now very gray at the temples, meant to him. He still felt he made the right decision when he made that deal with The Machine years before. Seeing the 'inside' of the Machine had actually been a journey through the mind of Harold Finch. That one man could create something as powerful and all-seeing as the Machine but still teach it humanity was amazing. He could have so easily used the Machine to literally take over the world but instead he'd taught it to care about people. That kind of moral center was to be treasured and preserved.

"When my access to the Machine did not end after that 24 hour window, I realized I had established my own relationship with it. I think the Machine was actually sentient long before you were willing to admit it Harold."

John paused for a moment to gauge Harold's reaction to what he was saying. He was surprised that Harold said nothing. Even the expression on his face was surprising. He'd expected Harold to deny his connection to the Machine after the "God Mode" because it was suppose to end after 24 hours, but he didn't. He'd thought that Harold would argue about when the Machine became sentient, but he didn't.

"It was that sentience that allowed me to make that deal with the Machine." Pausing again, John once again laid his hand on Harold's arm. "Your Machine loved its creator, its father...you. It was willing to do anything to protect you. But you wouldn't let it. You had programmed it to not take any special 'care' of you."

Harold pulled his arm away from John's hand and looked down at the table, unable to look John in the eye.

"Harold, I made the deal with the Machine to protect you, since you wouldn't let it protect you. When your number came up, it gave it to me, not you. Because it knew you would do nothing. It knew you would sacrifice yourself before you let me or Shaw or even Lionel get hurt. So I made the deal with it. I didn't know when, or where or how the deal would be enacted...but the Machine did. When that moment came, I called on the Machine and she acted immediately, making sure that each of us was on the right rooftop at the right time."

"Harold, I'm sorry I caused you so much grief, that was not my intent. You hired me to do a job. You gave me a purpose, a way to put my 'life skills' to good use." His already low voice dropped lower as his eyes filled with what could only be tears. TEARS! He couldn't believe he was still capable of tears!

"Harold, I had nothing and you gave me everything."

John's words hung in the air. They explained everything…..their entire relationship. The truth of that statement resonated between John and Harold. Harold realized that he also had had nothing. He'd lost Nathan and Grace. He had gone into hiding alone, with only his Machine and his money for company. But in finding John, hiring him to work for him, no, to work with him, John had given HIM everything right back.

"I too had nothing and you and your friendship and your trust gave me everything." whispered Harold.

For John's part, the more he tried to find the words to tell Harold how much he meant to him, the stronger the emotions swirled within him. He was not normally someone who could explain his feelings and the things he was putting into actual words surprised him. He glanced over at Iris. Seeing her there by his side, quietly giving him the strength that he needed, he realized she had given him that ability. She had unlocked that part of him that had been hidden away since he lost his family. He turned his eyes back to the man sitting across the table from him and realized he had to find the words, but where to begin.

Iris watched John closely. She knew where his thoughts were going. Then she realized that she and Grace should not be here. Not at this moment. This moment was for John and Harold only. She caught Grace's eye and motioned for her to join her.

Reaching over, Iris touched John's arm. Giving it a squeeze, she said nothing and stood up. Grace pulled Harold toward her in a hug and also said nothing as she stood up. The two women moved away together and neither man seemed to notice they were gone.

Looking at Harold, John took in the bowed head, the grayer hair, the noticeable thinness, the new lines in his face...but most of all he noticed the slight tremor in his hands. Hands that he was used to seeing fly over multiple keyboards, typing codes and breaching firewalls. He was surprised by the thought that Harold might have been staying away from computers since coming to Europe. That perhaps the man had felt he needed to stay away from any reminders of what they had been doing and of what he had lost. For Harold that had to be like cutting off his own arm, it seemed so unnatural. It was one more thing that John felt he must atone for.

The guilt that John felt was almost overwhelming. He'd been so single minded about making sure that Harold survived, that Harold lived...that he didn't think about how Harold would handle HIS death or that Harold would blame himself for his death. He'd never considered what Harold felt towards him... not until those words that Harold uttered as he was locking him in the safe. Harold had always held himself back in his relationship with others...only letting small moments escape. But now, to find out just how deeply Harold had mourned over his death and how wrapped he was in guilt over his death was almost more than John could handle. He knew he had to do what he could to restore Harold to the man he'd been before with none of the guilt found in the man before him now.

The ache in his own throat for feelings he couldn't express was painful in itself. John had never been good at putting his feelings into words. It had always been easier to bury feelings deep than to try to understand them or express them. But Iris had worked her magic on him. He had been able to talk to her, to put into words things that had been buried for many many years. But she had helped him find that part of him that he thought he'd lost forever. Now was the time she had been preparing him for. She had given him the tools to heal himself and to help and heal Harold.

Reaching across the table, John took Harold's hand in his and held it tight. Slightly squeezing it until Harold looked up. Seeing the strong emotion in Harold's eyes, John knew he had to be the one to start. Taking a deep breath he opened himself up to Harold like he had done with Iris. But this was on a totally different level. He knew he had to make Harold believe...believe that the right thing had happened between them for the right reasons.

"Harold, remember what I said a moment ago? That I had nothing...but you gave me everything?" John closed his eyes and tried to get his thoughts in order.

"I had lost everything and everybody that I cared about. My family was gone. Jessica was gone. My country, that I had sold my soul to, had betrayed me. I had nothing." John paused again. Admitting how deep his depression was had been difficult. He could still 'see' the blackness within himself from those days. "You were right that I was looking for a more efficient way to kill myself. I was on that subway, drunk as usual, on my way to the Brooklyn Bridge. I was going to end it. End my miserable life, a life that had become pointless. There was nobody to even care that I was dead. Mine was a life that was not needed and would not be missed. I was going to jump off that bridge with a bottle in hand, screaming at the top of my lungs 'take me'." John choked on his own words. The dark despair he had felt that moment on the subway came roaring back. He could almost taste the rotgut liquor he'd been drinking that night. Shaking his head, he still was mystified how that punk had messed with him at just that exact moment. One subway stop later and he would have been off the train and on his way to the bridge.

"But you saved me. You stopped me from ending it all. You gave me back my life and a chance to atone for all the bad things I had done in my life. And there are so many bad things. I'll never be able to balance the scales but you at least gave me a chance to try."

"Harold, I'm a soldier. I'm a soldier through and through. I protect and save. It's in my DNA. I am my father's son. You gave me that chance to become the man that my father could be proud of. For that alone I will never be able to thank you enough. I knew what I was getting into when I came to work for you. I had no problem putting my life on the line every single day. I didn't even care if I died. All I cared about was helping people who needed help and taking care of bad guys."

Looking at Harold, John smiled. "But along the way you helped me to live again. To be able to connect with people. To find people and friendships like I never ever thought I would have. Whether you meant to or not, you gave me a family. With each person we added to our little 'vigilante' group I learned to care. Lionel, Shaw and even Root. And Joss...who we lost." he said quietly, with his voice trailing off, memory still full of pain.

"I was in the right place at the right time, Harold. I was told by an old friend when I was in military, 'I was built for this'. This was what I was meant to do with my life. The war with SAM couldn't have ended any other way. You couldn't have held off those gunman while that virus was uploaded. You know that. And we all would have died and the world as we know it would not have survived. Everything turned out just like it was supposed to...and you can't change it."

Harold sat there listening to the words that flowed so effortlessly from John. A new John. A John who had finally found himself. Slowly shaking his head, Harold tried to understand and accept John's words.

"John, I need you to understand that this was not one sided. I had lost everything also. I had given up Grace; I had lost my best friend to a government that I had tried to help." Looking down at John's hand holding his. Harold finally felt the bands of guilt easing their grip on his heart.

The loss of John had been devastating. Knowing that John had taken HIS place, that he'd DIED in HIS place had been a never ending pain. He had blamed himself for pulling John into his 'vigilante world'. He had berated himself for not letting John go when he first turned him down. He should have just given him the money and let him go.

Then his mind would roll back to when John had tried to leave after the death of Joss Carter. John had been in so much pain but Harold had secretly wished for him to stay and as a result, when John had tentatively attempted to come back, Harold had reached out and grabbed the opportunity to welcome him back. But if he'd let him go in Rome, John wouldn't have died on that roof top. Day after day Harold had run through so many scenarios in his mind of WHEN he could have, no, should have, let John go but didn't.

Between his grief over losing John and blaming himself for John's death, he had not been able to fully be at peace with Grace. And she had known that and yet she had stayed. Many times he had not felt worthy of her love.

"John you gave me back so much. I too had withdrawn from life. I had no friends. All I had was my work and The Machine. Yes I 'sold insurance' and yes I worked for a software company but I had no friends. It was only when you came to work for me that I learned how to be a friend again. How to care about another person. I'd kept myself away from others. But working with you changed all that." Harold closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I meant what I said in that vault. I had no idea that you would become such a dear friend. The ache I felt of never seeing you again when I shut that safe was almost as painful as when I saw you on that other rooftop. I had been trying to deal with dying and losing you as a friend and never seeing Grace again. Those two things were what drove me to the rooftop. The wrong rooftop'." Harold said softly.

"You said I gave you so much but you gave me so much too. I will never be able to put into words what you have meant to me. I can only tell you how very glad I am to see you again. That you were not taken from me or from this world"

Hearing John's words, finally loosened up the stranglehold Harold's grief had on him. To finally understand how the 'deal' was made and why finally freed him from the anger and guilt that had held him captive for so long. The long talks that he and Iris had before he came to Rome had been the beginning of understanding. But there had been a missing part. And now it was found….John was alive, he had not died in place of him.

Harold finally felt at peace. John was here, he was alive. He seemed to have found the happiness with Iris that he had always denied himself. Turning towards where Iris and Grace were standing several feet away, he smiled and realized that his life, his world was complete. He had the woman he had loved all his life and the friend who had come to mean so much to him, by his side with the woman he loved.

Sitting back in his chair he looked at John and smiled. "Now, tell me how the 'Man Who Could Not Be Killed' survived a cruise missile?"

Returning his smile John looked at Iris and said, "I'll let Iris tell you an amazing story about hard headed women who don't believe everything they've been told."

Over dinner, Iris gave the details to Zoe's perseverance and determination in finding John. Grace and Harold listen in amazement at the random series of events that created the miracle sitting at the table with them.

It was the part about John meeting with Sameen and Lionel under the Queensboro Bridge that brought tears to Harold's eyes. He looked at John and the shared memory of their first meeting flowed between them, unspoken.

By the time they got to dessert John's leg was beginning to bother him. Sitting too long made it ache. Soon after they paid for dinner they took stroll. John and Harold walked together and Grace and Iris walked behind them.

Linking arms with Iris, Grace whispered, "Just look at them. Now they both limp!" This caused both women to laugh aloud. Upon hearing their women laughing, both men had matching smiles of contentment on their faces.

"Harold, I need to ask you something important."

"What is it Mr. Reese?" Old habits were hard to break. John had used his 'business tone' of voice so Harold had answered in the more formal manner.

"Do you know anyone that could give me a job?" Looking back over his shoulder at Iris, he said "Or maybe a part-time job?"

The End

The author and editor both thank you for reading and all your kind and encouraging words as you've come along with us on this final journey. We hope that you always remember this wonderful show that gave us all hope that there really IS some one out there who will watch over us and that two people working together really can change the world.