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He probably shouldn't have gone through the breach, but after the newspaper article Karen had found on him, he hadn't been able to help himself. It was a risk, but it was one he was willing to take just to find out what was on the other side, to see the world another John Reese had lived and died in, the man who had never been found by Finch, who had never been saved.

It hadn't seemed all that much different than this one. He hadn't felt the need for a disguise, expecting anyone who had known this world's John Reese would have known him at the man he'd died as. Homeless, bearded, his hair long and unwashed. No one would recognize him as he was now. He'd wandered through, observed the people who lived here, stopped in at the library to find himself a copy of the newspaper Karen had shown him, then headed out to pick up a coffee before returning to the Darrow where he'd found himself months ago.

Carrying the newspaper with him is perhaps a little dangerous, but there's a part of him that wants to show it to Finch. Everything he'd told Karen about Finch's role in his life had been the entire truth, but he knows he's never been particularly good at expressing his appreciation right to Finch's face, and he thinks the article might encompass everything he doesn't know he has the right words to say.

Without Finch he would be dead. He's long since thought so, but now he has all the evidence he'll ever need.

He's back in the Darrow he's been living in these past few months, reluctant it to call it his Darrow or the regular Darrow as he's heard others refer to it as. John wouldn't call himself settled, he'd been disappointed to find he wasn't able to orchestrate a way for him and Harold to head home through the breach, but he's more comfortable here. This is a city he's investigated, one he's searched, it's a city he's come to know. There's comfort in that.

John might be reluctant to say he's made friends, having never been very good at friendship before Finch, but at the sight of a familiar face ahead, he smiles and lifts one hand in a wave.

"Afternoon," he says when he's close. "How are you?"

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When I explain myself, Detective Riley just smiles. He looks surprised by what I said, but not in a bad way. I guess he was expecting me to say that I want nothing more than for my boys to show up, because what parent doesn't want to be with their kids? But it would be too selfish. I didn't choose to be here, sure. And if my boys showed up, I don't have any control over that. Really, my wishes are nothing more than that: wishes.

But I can at least make the sensible wish. This city can keep me for as long as it wants, if it really wants, but please — don't let it harm my boys.

I smile back at Detective Riley. I can't deny that it makes me feel good to be complimented, especially by a man that I would compliment in return.

"I am," I admit, grinning. "You are smart for noticing. But you are quite the man too, Detective Riley. And one with a good eye."

I feel... better, somehow.

"So what are you up to today?"

"I have a friend to visit eventually, but no other plans," he answers. And even that isn't set in stone. Finch will see him whenever he wants to, John rarely has control over their meetings, though in Darrow he has to admit it's been nice to see some of the boundaries between them relax just the slightest bit.

For one, he knows where Finch lives these days.

There's a part of him that almost wants to share what he'd found in the other version of Darrow, but the article gives away to much for him to let Jessica see it. Karen already knows more than she should as a result of having found it and he isn't prepared to put anyone else in danger just to get something off his chest. John Reese needs to stay where he is, at least for now. John Riley has to continue to exist. It keeps everyone safer.

"And yourself?" he asks. "Any plans?"

"No plans involving other people," I say, exhaling a little bit because it seems like a shame. Now, I'm not the biggest social butterfly in the neighborhood, but I definitely work better and faster when I have people to bounce my ideas off of. When you leave me alone for too long, I end up needing to talk out loud and at the wall, because at least that feels like I'm getting a little bit of feedback.

I'm not like those people who can close themselves off in a room and emerge a couple hours later with their whole life sorted. Even though I really wish I could. It would make everything easier.

"But lots of plans involving the upcoming election. I met someone from outside of Darrow who works for the government; she works for the mayor. And I talked to her, asked her what it would take to run for the city council, and it doesn't sound impossible. Except I'm building my way up from scratch. I don't know much about policy or writing platforms."

"Really," he says, although he doesn't know if he's all that surprised. In the time he's been here, he had resorted to sleeping on the train so he wouldn't have to go into an apartment he didn't trust, and since Finch's arrival, he's more or less been waiting for his friend to call the shots. Maybe Finch isn't quite his boss anymore, not in the same manner as he had been with the Machine in working order, but John can't really imagine taking orders from anyone else. Not now.

But in his time since arriving, he's done very little. He's looked high and low for signs of Samaritan, but thus far he hasn't even gotten a legitimate job, and here is Jessica, finding ways to become an elected Darrow official. It should put him to shame, but it only makes him smile.

"Well, good for you," he says. "I'll admit I haven't given much thought to the government in Darrow, but it might be helpful to know there's someone like you working toward bettering the city."

"Bettering the city? Oh, no," I say with a soft laugh, shaking my head. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I would not make choices that make things worse for the city. But I think the campaign that I want to run on is more about the people who are coming into the city. Not everyone is very nice to us. It's the same as the way that my family was treated when we first got to the United States from Taiwan — it's not that everyone is mean to you, but everyone treats you like an other, and sometimes that just makes it hard for everyone to get along. I see lots of that in Darrow, too."

I sigh. Maybe at the end of it all, what I really want to be able to do is learn more about the city. But I also know that I am not going to get to that without people caring about the people who are coming into the city. You can't get people to think that funding research about Darrow is important if you don't care that there are people suddenly popping up in your city — or if your first answer is that the people who are popping into the city should just leave.

"So I want to figure out how we improve that. I don't know if it's policy or education or research, but the mayor of Darrow actually cares about people from outside the city so I figure getting elected is not completely impossible," I explain.

"You've noticed that, too," John says and that doesn't surprise him much either. It's hardly the sort of thing that's kept exclusively under wraps and while he knows it certainly doesn't apply to all the people who haven't simply appeared in Darrow, there does seem to be a good number who consider them other. That's a good way to phrase it and John knows as a white male, he's experienced very little of that himself, but he'd found it impossible to ignore, especially in the military. The army treated women as if they were inferior and being stationed in Iraq, he had more than once witnessed someone being treated poorly because of the colour of their skin.

"I would argue that is bettering the city," he says. "The idea that those of us who are coming from somewhere else don't have something to offer is absurd. Making for a more inclusive society betters the society as a whole, not just the people who have been treated as outsiders."

Which he doubts he needs to tell her at all. Jessica may not have the same kinds of experiences John has, but she has others that have made her perceptive. Yet another reason why it would be better for people to be accepted into their new lives here.

"It's pretty hard not to notice," I admit to Detective Riley. "You go through being the other enough times and it becomes obvious when it's starting all over again. I think there are some people who have it even worse. You know, I like to say that I'm as fair and treat everyone as equally as possible but I know that's not true — when a friend of mine told me that vampires and werewolves are real here, I basically wanted to call the police and tell them to round them all up. It's just not safe!"

I pause, shaking my head. I still feel much of that way right now. I don't know how I am ever supposed to protect myself against a vampire if I bump into one that's hungry, or a werewolf out of its mind.

"But I know that just trying to separate everyone probably isn't the right answer. You have to find a way that everyone can have their place, and I don't trust someone else to do that for me, I want to have a voice in how it's done. Like you see how most new people get put into the same buildings? It's very weird. Why isn't it more integrated? Things like that, I don't expect to change unless we speak out," I add.

If given some time to think about it, John isn't sure where he might fall on that topic. He's witnessed what some vampires can do, but he's witnessed what men can do, too, and no one is asking all of mankind to be locked up and kept away from each other. Men, in John's experience, are horrific.

And one night when he had been sleeping on the train he'd felt a young kid trying to take his wallet from inside his jacket. The movement had been so quick that he hadn't felt it at all, but when he'd opened his eyes, the man sitting across from him had the teen's wrist in a tight grip and John would have sworn he'd seen a yellow glint in his eyes. He doesn't know what the man was, only that wasn't entirely human, but he'd been kind and he'd helped someone he had seen in need.

"We presume it's not safe based on biases and stereotypes we've learned through fiction," he says after a moment. "Which I think is the very think you're trying to encourage Darrow to avoid. We need to broaden our minds and that may just include the idea of werewolves and vampires." He frowns faintly and adds, "Though you're right, I don't particularly trust the apartments."

"Yeah, something like that," I say quietly, because it's not an easy topic to talk about. I still think that werewolves and vampires are dangerous, I still don't want them living anywhere near me even if legally I know that I can't do anything about it. Maybe that makes me not a perfect candidate to join the council of the city — but maybe it's also still okay because there are multiple people on the council, so it's not like I get to make every single decision alone.

Which is just unfortunate, really.

"I wanted to avoid living in the apartments at first," I go on, because this is a much easier topic than the one before. "I said there was no way that I would move into some property that the city provides to me for free? What kind of sucker am I? Nothing in this world comes free. I'm sure that there is some reason why we all get dropped in one of a few buildings and — I did my research on tenant history, one of the buildings wasn't included for new arrival housing until later, so I'm sure that they needed to expand. But, I don't know. It's too weird. I only live there because I figure that no matter where I sleep, I'm probably still part of some big experiment and they can probably still tell where I'm going. They're like the American government in that way."

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