primary_asset | (no subject)

(no subject)

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?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He doesn't like the idea of bringing Karen into anything they do, but he knows that reaction is unfair to the both of them. Though he might not be particularly inclined to say it to anyone, John likes Karen. He knows better than to let any feelings he might have for her evolve into anything serious, because, as he'd told Iris, men like him can't give someone a proper life. He can't give her what he's sure most people want, what even he still wants now and then.

She's smart, though, and from what he gathers so far, damn good at unearthing information, so he nods slowly.

"I think she'd be a good asset," he says. "And I met a woman named Peggy Carter, I have a feeling she'd be invaluable. She's about as tight lipped as we are, but she's been through a war herself and is very... proactive."

Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up, Harold thinks. It still pains him, thinking of Detective Carter's death, and to think of Sameen, even of Grace, though she hadn't been involved in quite the same way. Their missions, the things they'd set out to do, they'd been dangerous. Harold had believed from the start that sooner than later, death would find them both, and he's been at peace with that for a very long time.

They have a choice now, to continue helping people where they can or to stop completely, to turn away from that kind of life and pursue quite ones; but neither of them are going to remain content doing that. Neither of them would find satisfaction or fulfillment, pretending to be the sort of people they aren't and never could be. Bringing in others, though, that's a more sensitive matter. Harold knows Miss Page has become important to John, and he would've balked had John suggested bringing Grace into their operation; but like John has said, Karen might be a good asset and though Harold doesn't know her very well yet, he's inclined to agree. She's a sharp woman, curious, one could be of great help and that's what they need.

"That's a start," Harold says. "Perhaps we should find a time to meet with Miss Carter together. If she's the reticent type, she may respond better to a familiar face rather than mine alone. As for Miss Page... John, we can keep her in the dark, if that's what you want. It's just that we've both been running for so long, I wonder if it's time you find someone who can run with you in a way that I can't." He gives his friend a small, meaningful smile. "I won't be around forever, you know."

He will be if John has anything to do with it. Not forever, that isn't possible, but if he has his way, Finch will die old and content, he'll pass away peacefully in his sleep or surrounded by people who care about him. He'll do whatever he can to make that happen, put himself between Finch and whatever danger might come their way over and over again until there's some sort of peace to be had.

None of those words formulate into anything beyond the simplest thoughts, however, but he wonders if Finch can't read it in his eyes. If he can't see exactly what John will be willing to do in order to make certain he doesn't end up a casualty of some terrible war.

Instead he finds himself smiling faintly, looking at Finch with amusement. "Are you trying to find me a date, Harold?"

It's easy to make a joke, but the truth is it does frighten him a little. Not being alone, he's long since grown used to that, has accepted years ago he wasn't meant to have a normal like, but the thought of putting her in danger, especially in such a direct manner, it makes him nervous.

John doesn't address what time Harold has left in his life, and Harold hadn't expected him to, not really. Neither of them are the especially chatty sort, but they've worked together long enough that they've grown to learn each other's tells. Perhaps they don't know all of each other's secrets but they don't need to, they don't need to be aware of every aspect of each other's lives to call themselves close. John doesn't have to say he'd do anything to keep Harold safe for him to know it; and Harold doesn't have to say he'd rather John not to go to any such extremes.

They've kept each other safe all these years, in any case. Harold is doubtless that they'll be able to continue the trend.

He does, however, have to resist the urge to roll his eyes at John's question. "As much as I do appreciate evenings spent with you and Bear, I think it's also safe to say that you do need other friends," he counters. "Maybe even a hobby that doesn't involve quietly breaking into our neighbor's homes."

"I have friends," John protests. "I was given a moon cake by one of them."

He'd felt oddly proud of that, knowing he'd made enough of an impression on Jessica that she'd felt inclined to include him in a celebration of her holiday and that she'd remembered him.

"And I haven't broken into anyone's apartment in weeks."

He's protesting, but he knows what Finch is saying to him and John isn't entirely certain he disagrees. It would be safer to disagree, safer for himself and definitely safer for Karen, because he thinks of Jessica and of Carter and he can't pretend as if he didn't have a part in their deaths. He should have done a better job of protecting them. He should have been there for Jessica and he never should have asked Carter to be involved in their world.

It's nice, however, being able to tell someone the truth and he knows Karen would protest his decision not to tell her in order to protect her.

"We should probably tell her," he agrees on a faint sigh.

"And you didn't share?" Harold accuses, though his unmoved expression speaks volumes more than his tone.

It does please him to hear it, though. There had been plenty of people willing to show their gratitude after John had helped them in New York but that isn't the same as having friends. Being appreciated isn't the same as being liked. John is a likable fellow, Harold thinks, he's kind even if he thinks he's funnier than he is, and at the strangest times. It doesn't come as a surprise that given the chance, John is perfectly capable of making friends. That won't stop Harold from encouraging it to happen all the more.

"I'd offer to do it myself, but I imagine you'd want to be there," Harold says. "I think I know a good place we could do that. We could meet with Miss Carter there, too. There are a row of old warehouses I found, all them empty. From what I could tell, there's nobody patrolling any of them. We could set up shop in one of them, make it our new headquarters, of sorts. It'd be much more spacious than the subway, at least."

John nods and he's listening to everything Finch is telling him, though he's quiet for a moment as he considers everything this might mean. There may not be a Machine in Darrow, there may not be any way -- currently, anyhow -- to create a list of numbers, but what they're talking about is still going back into a dangerous life. It isn't for himself he hesitates, but for Finch.

He won't ever have a normal life and he knows it, but Finch still has that chance. It's doubtful he'll take it, not without Grace here in Darrow, too, but John has to at least give him the option. It has to be said aloud.

"This is what you want to do." It's a statement more than a question. "My commitment to any plan you make is complete, Harold, you know that, but I think we should be sure this is really the path you want to take again." He has a chance here for something else. John doesn't say that part, leaves it unspoken, but he thinks they both know what he isn't saying.

It's a fair question, though Harold would rather not entertain it.

Even in a completely different city, a different world, there's no hope for him when it comes to having a normal life. Maybe he would have liked to think so once; if asked a couple years ago, he may even have yearned for it. He doesn't have to think long on it to know that isn't the case now. It's not just that Grace isn't here or that he doesn't have a single facet of his life prior to his supposed to death with him in Darrow. No, it's not just that.

"It's the path I've been taking for four years, John," Harold answers, his gaze and his tone both steady. "It's a choice I made, even before I met you, to do good with what I can. To help people the way I should have, before my first chance slipped through my fingers and I lost everything. I won't make that mistake again. This is my path, the only path I know anymore."

He's not getting any younger. John may wish him a better life, but Harold doesn't wish it for himself. This is what he's meant to do, this is what will fulfill him. He couldn't be with Grace for very long then, and he can't be with her now, that's a pattern that he suspects can only ever be repeated, even if he were lucky enough to find love like that again. It's better this way. It's better to embrace this life because even though it's brought so much suffering, it's also done so much to save those who can make the most of their second chances.

"But you already knew all that," Harold continues, knowing it must be true. "I do appreciate you making sure, though."

It might not be an answer he particularly likes hearing, but it's the one he expected, and he appreciates that Finch has bothered with actually stating it instead of giving John one of his unimpressed looks and then simply moving on with the conversation. If this is what they're going to do, he thinks it's best to begin like this, with honesty, and he nods, his appreciation clear in his expression.

He wishes, of course, that it could have been a different answers. He wishes he could find some way to give Grace back to him, find some way for them to be happy together, but he knows he can't. As long as Samaritan is out there, Grace is in danger simply by having loved Harold. It isn't fair, but John knows complaining about the unfairness of it all will never change it.

"So you'll see if you can dig up anything on Peggy Carter and if she comes back looking as good as I think she might, we'll talk to her," he proposes. "In the meantime, I'll talk to Karen. Tell her... tell her as much as I can."

He can't tell her everything. There are things about Jessica, about Carter that he just can't share. Things he's never even said to Finch, although he's sure Finch can understand them just by looking at him.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only