Chapter Text
Harold walked hand in hand with his love, Grace, to their favorite café. It had been almost seven months since the showdown with Samaritan. Since he lost John.
Since he’d lost everything.
Days seemed to pass like months and months like years. The ever-present feeling of loss in a world that they had managed to save… but this world didn’t mean as much without John in it. Without the sole reason that he himself was still able to walk hand in hand with Grace.
He seemed to be moving through life zombie like, just going through the motions, never truly present.
The first few days after he went to Italy to reveal himself to Grace were full of true and reclaimed happiness. But the realization that he was still a man with far too many secrets that he had yet to enlighten her with… kept sinking into him.
He kept telling himself that he was keeping Grace at arm’s length because he was protecting her. Protecting her from what? He had no clue. There were no more numbers, no more government hit men and no more Samaritan. There was no more threat to anyone anymore. And absolutely no reason for him to keep the past six years of his life from her.
But he kept doing it. Keeping her from the truth for no other reason now than to hide the pain of losing so much since he had seen her last. It was so ingrained into the man that Grace had known and fallen in love with that it became second nature to him again.
Grace nudged his arm, “What’s on your mind, Harold?” She smiled warmly.
He looked back at her and smiled, “Oh, it’s nothing sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.” He pursed his lips and pecked a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Okay…” She replied, pressing herself in closer to him. She knew there was something eating away at him but she’d always let him take the time he needed before he came to her and it was no different now.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders without even thinking about it. The emotions he felt for her came back at once, much like he was on auto-pilot, easily reverting back to the happy life he'd shared with her forever ago. He'd never once stopped thinking of her, loving and longing for her and now miraculously they were together again.
He felt bad for what he had done to her and for what he was still doing to her. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to have the love of her life show up on her doorstep… returned from the dead… only to have him not be the same man she knew and loved when they were together last.
Not even half the same person he was. A huge piece of himself was now missing.
“Harold, what do you think?” Grace asked looking up at him, a sweet warm smile playing on her face that could melt the Arctic Circle.
“About what?” He asked, trying to brighten up his expression. Failing miserably.
“Where do you want to go to lunch?” She asked, concern evident in her voice. “What’s going on with you Harold?” She backed away and her eyes shifted up and down his body. Like she was inspecting him... as if it would tell her what was wrong.
He doesn’t tell her that she won’t see what’s wrong by looking at him. Because the problem is that John’s gone and when he departed… he took Harold Finch… Wren… Gull… Grebe and even Egret… with him… every one of Harold’s past existences went away with John when he died.
There’s nothing left to look at except the shell of a man who once had a purpose… The only man left is Harold Martin. Another alias that he can’t bring himself to explain to her… just another fabrication of his past.
“Everything’s fine, Grace…” He answered with a reassuring smile. “Now let’s just get some lunch, I’m starving.” He smiled wider and pulled her in closer to him again, running his hand up and down her back.
She looked at him, skeptically, but went with it.
He breathed a sigh of relief that she hasn’t pushed him to talk about it. Because he’s not sure he could.
He can’t say the name John verbally anymore. Can’t go into certain places that remind him too much like a New York diner. Destroyed all of his laptops. Sencha Green tea is a thing of the past because it tastes too bitter now. Sprinkled donuts and pastries don’t mean anything but the reminder of loss to him now.
He’s trying to break the habit of reaching up to his ear. Reaching unconsciously for his earpiece. Wishing to just say one more word to his partner.
To tell him thank you for the second chance. But he didn’t want it if it meant he had to be without him.
To tell him he should have just let him die.
To tell him that he misses him.
To tell him that he can’t enjoy life without him.
#
“I was thinking we could go see a movie tomorrow?” Grace suggests, sitting at the kitchen table later that night. She’s flipping through a newspaper.
“We should have seen “Once Upon a Time in the West…” fewer subtitles.” He could hear John’s teasing voice saying to him.
“Harold?” Harold's eyes snap back to the present and focus on Grace. She’s looking at him with a frown as she laid her paper down onto the table. “Are you okay?”
Harold picked up his fork and twirled his pasta around the prongs, “Everything’s just fine, why do you ask?”
“You looked… strange.” Grace waved her hand in the air like she was trying to find a different word but just settled on that one. “Like you were somewhere else.”
“I’m fine, Grace…” He got up gingerly and walked over, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. When he glances back up…
He sees John.
That unmistakable face. Those unmistakable ocean blue eyes. Those cheekbones… he just stood there. His arms crossed and his back leaning against the wall. One leg propped up behind him. Grinning at Harold. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak…
Harold stands there for a second with his mouth open. His eyes wide. His legs want to buckle under him. He clenches his eyes shut. Tries to calm his heart rate that’s thundering too loudly in his ears.
He opens his eyes again to see Grace standing up now, looking at him with her brows furrowed and her head tilted. She’s visibly concerned. “Harold?”
He gazes beyond her, but John is gone. All that remains is the royal blue wall of their kitchen.
“I’m fine… I just got a little lightheaded… I think I stood up too quickly or something.” Grace doesn’t seem as though she’s buying it.
“Truly sweetheart, I’m fine.” He leans over and kisses her cheek. He’s not fine… he’s just seen his dead partner and he’s far from fine.
“Maybe you should go lie down, I’ll clean up in here and join you when I’m finished, we’ll watch a movie or something in the bedroom, alright?” Grace see’s something in Harold’s eyes that is starting to concern her more and more lately.
Harold has always been a little quiet, a thoughtful kind of person but he’s never seemed distant before.
Not like he’s been since he came back to her. She knows he’s been through something tragic and she hasn’t pushed him for details but she’s becoming very concerned for the man that has returned to her.
“Yes, all right I’ll go get ready for bed. Please don’t take too long.” He knows she suspects something and the last thing he wants to do is alienate her but he can’t bring himself to talk about the horrific events that are coming back and haunting him now.
He’s still not ready and doesn’t think he ever will be. The memories are all still too fresh and painful to even consider right now.
He kisses her again and heads for the bedroom, trying to figure out what just happened. He gets to the doorway and stops short. John is sitting in the chair by the window. He blinks. Thinking that when he opens his eyes that John will be gone again. But he’s still sitting there. Smirking that teasing smirk that Harold fell in love with.
“Hey Finch, miss me?” He speaks as he always had. With a touch of velvet in his voice followed with a playful intonation.
Harold wants to go to him and embrace him with all of the love and warmth that he never had the chance to bestow upon him before… when his world came crashing down around him for the second time in his life and it was far too late.
But as he stands there gaping at the apparition in front of his astonished eyes he can’t bring himself to speak or to move… this can’t be real. As much as he wants it to be true… he knows that John is dead and gone and he’ll never see his beloved face in reality again.
“Harold?” He hears Grace call his name from the end of the hall and he turns to look at her hesitantly and he clutches onto the doorframe for fear of collapsing to the floor.
“I’m…” He looks back to the chair by the window and John is gone. “I’m…” He begins again but finds himself falling over. His legs have gone weak and he can’t hold himself up and he slides to the floor just as Grace gets to him.
“Harold!?” He can hear her but he can’t answer, he’s in a daze with his back against the door frame.
“I’m calling an ambulance!” She tells him fearfully and heads towards the phone on the nightstand.
He finds his voice then, “No!” he says earnestly, “No please Grace, I’m alright now. Please don’t.” He sees the terror in her face as she holds the receiver in her hand.
“Please… I’m fine.” He lies and forces his legs to cooperate long enough to get him to the bed.
“Harold are you sure? There’s something wrong with you; please let me call someone.” She puts her hands on his face, feeling for a temperature but Harold knows that it isn’t the flu that’s causing his issues. It’s the intense feeling of loss and grief that is forcing itself on him and eating him alive.
#
Harold is hanging up one of his suits at the end of the day.
He hears Grace emerge from the bathroom.
“Harold, what do you think about getting a dog? Just a small one,” She says absently as she grabs a bottle of lotion off the mahogany dresser.
"If anyone messes with you… he’ll eat em."
He turns around and sees Grace standing there, her lovely hair wrapped in a towel to dry and another wrapped around her petite frame.
And John is standing behind her. He’s leaning against the dresser on his elbow, his feet crossed over each other casually.
Harold’s eyes tick to him for a second and John smiles, no teeth, just that clever, conspicuous grin that John used all the time to annoy him with.
“Harold?” Grace asks.
“A dog?” The thought of Bear stings and Harold tries to act casual, trying not to scare her with how frightened he is by what he’s experiencing. “I don’t know Grace… I’ve never been particularly fond of animals… I mean the hair and the mess…” He looks down at his feet, avoiding Grace’s gaze. He counts to three and when he looks back up again, John is gone.
“Okay…” Grace says, a little disappointed.
“We’ll talk about it another time.” Harold replies and turns to go take his own shower. He hopes the hot water will help to alleviate his sudden anxiety.
#
“Harold… Can we talk?” Grace asks him gently. Coming out from the kitchen and sitting on the arm of the chair he’s sitting on in the living room.
“What about?” Harold purses his lips and braces himself for her question.
“Last week… when you were acting so strangely…” She put her hand on his cheek gently and looked at him with concern.
“It was nothing Grace…” He smiled, “I just wasn’t feeling well.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” She cleared her throat and paused for a moment before resuming, “You were gone for six years, Harold… what happened in all that time?” Grace didn’t want to push him right now if he wasn’t ready, she was used to waiting and was an expert in being patient. But she wanted to try once more before she would give him the time he clearly needed.
“Can you tell me what happened that made it so you could come back to me? I know it had to be something terrible…your awful stomach wound was a testament to that.” Grace looked into his somber eyes and hoped he would start sharing the circumstances of those horrible years that she thought he was dead. “Harold there’s something different about you.”
“Grace… sweetheart…” He kissed her, “I promise you, there is nothing wrong. All you need to know is that something changed so I could come back… I’m fine…”
She smiled at him, Harold knew that she wasn’t convinced, that she was just appeasing him but he couldn’t bear to speak of it. “Alright… but please, you know I’m always here if you want to talk, about anything, right?”
“Absolutely…” Harold embraced her and pressed their lips together again, this time Grace held him there a little longer. Savoring his warm presence back in her life again.
She put her forehead to his, “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” He smiled at her as convincingly as he could.
She got up and made her way back into the kitchen. Turning back to look at him again and smiled sympathetically before entering the kitchen to clean up from breakfast.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure sitting on the coffee table beside him and was almost afraid to look. “Are you sure you’re fine Finch?” Harold turned his upper body to see him. John.
There he was, staring back at him with a grin.
Harold let out a breath. His hands dug into the fabric of the chair until his knuckles turned white. He closed his eyes… doesn’t dare say anything because John isn’t really there. John’s dead. He died on November 13th last year. Harold saw him get gunned down. He heard and felt the explosion that decimated the building John stood on.
He has to be losing his mind or he’s sick and delirious… He opens his eyes again and turns to face the coffee table. He’s gone. No one is sitting beside him, no one near enough to whisper in his ear… John’s gone.
He starts to feel an unexpected sense of loss all over again.