John Reese (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
primary_asset) wrote2016-09-30 04:11 pm
primary_asset) wrote2016-09-30 04:11 pm
(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?"
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?"
no subject
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."
no subject
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.