(no subject)

[primary_asset]

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?"

Comments

[womanofvalue]

Peggy has just finished up on a trip that's allowed her to take several photographs of duplicates (as she's begun to think of them) and feels like she's earned herself a break, travelling back through the breach. She startles slightly, tucking away her notes and her phone before lifting her brow and smiling in greeting. "What brings you to this fine side of the universe on a sunny afternoon?" she deadpans wryly, as though hopping back and forth between universes is merely a normal thing.

[itsdarkcorners]

It's been a long couple of weeks, or at least it seems like it, and Karen has been scattered as a result, going back and forth between one Darrow and the other, trying to find out as much as she can and to make some sense of everything, as if there's any logic in a portal to another fucking universe opening up. If anyone is going to figure out any answers, she's sure it won't be her, but futility has certainly never stopped her before. There's no reason for it to now.

She's heading back to her apartment, a much-needed coffee in one hand and a messenger bag holding both notes and her laptop slung over her shoulder when she sees John. Tired or not, she can't help but smile, warm and genuinely pleased. "Hey," she says. "I'm good, I'm good. How are you? What's going on?"

[privateperson]

Harold hasn't gone through the portal. A part of him is curious about it, of course, a rather large part; but having no idea whatsoever about what he may find on the other side of it is a significant risk that he hasn't been willing to take. John's come back without a scratch, which is both a relief and a surprise, but that doesn't convince Harold it's a very good idea.

So he's been using his time to explore this Darrow instead, wandering on his own while John's preoccupied, sometimes with Bear and sometimes alone. Today, he'd come across a series of abandoned warehouses somewhat near the cemetery, and the portal is in sight but Harold actively chooses to ignore it. To ignore the temptation of what could be a better life or, alternatively, a far worse one.

When he spots John, Harold brightens, subtly raising a hand in return. "I'm well enough," he answers, which is true enough. "Any new stories from the other side?"

[numberhuang]

"Exhausted," I answer at once. Most days, I don't bother trying to hide how I'm feeling. Why should I? If I show other people where I am, it means that they will know not to try my patience and only to come to me with the things that matter. It saves time, it saves energy, no one has to pretend that they are something that they're not.

Besides, I think that Detective Riley will understand more than most people.

"It is refreshing to see a familiar face, though," I tell him, immediately falling in line with the pace of his walk. "Ugh, you know what happened recently? I had a bunch of people contact me because they swear that they saw me at this big party that was held in the city. I keep telling them that it can't be me, because I don't go to parties without a reason, and I definitely don't forget when I go to a party. But they insist. Which makes me paranoid that maybe there is some different version of me walking around in Darrow."