I won't run, the guilt is mine

[ornithologist]

WHO: Harold Finch & established CR
WHEN: Forward dated post-mission
WHERE: Around Etraya
WHAT: Harold canon updates to post-series and has a bit of a time. Closed starters below. There will be an open post for him after these are sorted through!
NOTES\WARNINGS: This whole post and all threads are full of descriptions of grieving and suicidal thoughts & ideation.

After it happens, after he recovers his memories of how everything fell apart, Harold questions his grip on reality. It would be appropriate if after all this time he finally met his limit. John is dead and Root is dead and Elias is dead and-- the Machine is dead-- and Grace is alive, but what right does he have to see her, how can he get a happy ending when he's the one who deserves it the least--

He's in the library they abandoned long ago and there's traces of his life here with John all around him. Rationally, intellectually, he knows where he is. This is Etraya. He can reread their text conversations, few though they were, and reassure himself that this is real and that this is happening. But there's no one here. It's eerie, everyone away on the mission; it's like Harold is in some kind of bizarre tortuous stasis. He's here but no one else is, survivor's guilt made manifest in its natural apotheosis.

He finds the remnants of all the projects he'd been working on so steadily what must've been a day ago, electronic pieces strewn around and multiple computers chugging test code, and stares at them. They seem so pointless now. Meaningless. Harold struggles to find an ounce of caring in his soul, for anyone, for anything. Surveillance? A covert encrypted network?

What does it matter? He's utterly alone.

Harold can't stay there. The numbness is getting increasingly punctured every time he finds something John left behind: washed dishes from making him dinner, a suit jacket left over the back of a chair, and then Bear himself. He has to leave the library or risk feeling things again and that's a tidal wave whose potential aftermath frightens him.

Mutely, he leashes Bear and heads out, and for hours he wanders the empty streets of Etraya, wondering how much longer he has to endure existence.

Comments

John

[ornithologist]

[ Harold winds up back at the library residence eventually. He went first to his fake apartment and spent some time actively dissociating, growing more and more detached and almost confused, puzzled about his continued state of existence, until Bear started licking plaintively at his hand. He looked down at him and sighed, a long, tired exhale.

He knows, of course, when everyone returns from the mission. The network lights up like a Christmas tree and his automated alerts inform him promptly. He knows too that John will come back here. It's sensible, he lives here, it's their base of operations, and John...

John doesn't like to leave him alone for long. The irony.

Harold should leave if he doesn't want to face this but instead he's frozen, immobilized by grief and possibility. Over the past few weeks he'd moved through his shock enough to find an approximation of functioning: showering, eating, even prodding at his former self's projects for lack of anything else to do. They keep his mind busy, at least. But now his mind is blank. He's seated at his work station with an array of monitors before him and his hands on the keyboard, the notifications up and unclosed that John's secondary private communicator is in range again, and he doesn't type a single key.

The surrealness of it all deepens and broadens as he watches the tracking dot approach, then enter, then hears the secure door open, Bear running over to greet John.

He doesn't turn to face him, but his name falls out of his mouth anyway, voice faint: ]

John.

[ Does John remember, too? Did this happen to them simultaneously? Based on how things are with Shaw, Harold knows that isn't a guarantee. So like always, shamefully, he'll play it close to the vest until he knows, like the coward he is. ]

[aimsforknees]

[ John is in a great mood when they arrived back in Etraya. Finally back to somewhere familiar, and finally back to Harold. It seems so strange that he spent so many years without even knowing Harold existed and now he can barely stand the four weeks he's been away. The trip back to the library feels both so short and so long. He jogs up the stairs to where they live, taking them two at a time.

Back inside he's instantly greeted by Bear, who he crouches down to pet, practically being knocked over in the excitement. It feels like a rehash of his return after Kara kidnapped him, only now he lives here and it's been four weeks. He looks up from where he's grinning and trying to calm an exuberant Bear when Harold speaks.

He's not sure what's wrong with Harold, but this wasn't his usual greeting. He's been away for a long time without any way to contact Harold, who probably would have done okay with some of the mental challenges, but he doesn't think Harold would have enjoyed it. It was worth the 60 points if only for the peace of mind. ]

We're back. Quiet month?

[ Testing the waters, seeing what he gets back, seeing if he can figure out why Harold greeted him that way. That's how it is with them, how Harold doesn't give away how he feels outright, or sometimes even at all, and John has to decide whether to try to poke around or just let him be. But they've been closer since moving in together, and John wants to know "why" today. ]

[ornithologist]

[ Hearing John in a good mood and then his own dour affect visibly squashing it is painful. Harold turns automatically when spoken to, and it says something about how many shocks he's weathered in the past month that he doesn't freeze again. He faces John and his expression is even, but there's something cracking at the edge, a faint tremor in his hands that he shifts to fold neatly in his lap to hide.

He can tell instantly that John is the same as he was when he left for the mission. He knows him very well, as much as John knows how to read him, accurately deduces something has happened in his absence. Harold can see and feel that whole calculation occurring in an instant, their comfortable unspoken back and forth. ]

In literal terms, yes, [ he answers, falling into their usual exchange as easy as breathing, a wave of vertigo overtaking him momentarily before he can continue. He didn't think he'd ever get this again. Should he be having it now? How can he trust--

Those are worries for another time. Focus on John, now, and not letting on as best he can. ]

While you were gone I regained a few years' worth of memories. Up to where Ms. Shaw likely is, I believe.

[ Harold pushes on smoothly: ] I'm relieved to see you-- [ but his voice breaks-- he wants to finish, I'm relieved to see you well, but the crack in his demeanor widens on that word and he has to shut his mouth rather than risk finishing. ]

[aimsforknees]

[ That's a sobering thought. That Harold has been here by himself with who knows what to keep him company. The smile drops from his face and he thinks back to his conversation with Shaw, how she didn't know what happened to Harold. ]

What happens to you? Shaw said she didn't know.

[ He doesn't ask about himself because he doesn't care. Truly. If Harold is alive that's all that matters to him. It's probably indelicate to ask, but he needs to know how much he needs to treasure his time here with Harold. Harold is clearly upset by his knowledge, he's not letting on much, but John has lived with him and gotten better and understanding what Harold is like, how he behaves. ]

Shaw

[ornithologist]

[ He has a whole night with John not remembering and then they wake up and it's over, and Harold can't look at him anymore, can't stand it. He's dead and he should still be dead and Harold-- really, he should be the one who's dead, and he's not. The direct physical evidence that John is alive and in front of him and unrepentant takes his breath away. His throat closes up. There's an aversion in him like a magnetic polarity opposing John that whispers run, run, run and after a short, devastating conversation, he goes.

Harold doesn't get far before he realizes, to his own shame, that there's someone else who does remember that he should see. That he owes her more than he'd given her with his disappearing act, tempting as it is to reenact that now. And maybe she can solve this problem for him, temporarily. The short term is all that exists right now; his ability to project and plan ahead has evaporated, decimated by grief, a gaping trench inside him that he doesn't want to crawl out of.

He goes upstairs and knocks on her door, remote in affect, holding onto his composure by a thread. ]

Sameen, [ he says the moment the door opens, gaze piercing and direct through his glasses in a way he rarely is. ] I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry about Root.

[ It comes out twice, like once isn't enough; he has to push himself to say her name and acknowledge her absence, her death. But he's had more time to become accustomed to his failures regarding Root and it's at least possible to talk about now, thanks to the Machine painstakingly drawing him through those conversations.

It's an abrupt, almost cruel, opening -- but there's absolutely nothing else he can bear to say. He never got the chance to say it to her before, and the words crowd his mouth now. ]

[cactusy]

[Her first instinct is to ask Who told you?, but no, that doesn't sit right: Carver knows a good chunk of the story, but even he doesn't know her name. From there, it's not too hard to put the pieces together. People sometimes time-travel forwards here, suddenly regaining years in a matter of days. It had happened to Castiel's boyfriend. And it must be what had happened to Finch.

She stands stock still in the doorway for several long moments, her face frozen. Then she steps back and to the side, giving him room to pass through.]

You wanna come in?

[ornithologist]

... Yes. Yes, of course.

[ What was he thinking, practically ambushing her like that? But-- he wasn't thinking. And maybe this is the kind of thing that is best served with fewer coherent thoughts and more wordless intuition. Whatever Sameen's outward reaction, she should have that immediate, effusive sympathy from someone.

He enters, heavy on his bad leg, whole demeanor tired as he makes his way in. ]

[cactusy]

[Shaw's apartment has the vibe of a hotel suite: clean, comfortable, and completely depersonalized. There's a couch for Harold to sit on, though, even though Shaw doesn't make use of it herself: she stands in front of him wherever he ends up, arms crossed and shoulder hunched.]

So, uh-- are you dead, too?

[Mentally, she's been putting the odds at fifty-fifty.]

Accelerator

[ornithologist]

[ Accelerator returns to some messages, dated two weeks ago. ]

I'm having one of those days where it's very hard not to set myself on fire.

[ That was far too honest, written in a moment of disassociative weakness, and Harold stares at the message in sudden and profound regret. He shouldn't be putting this on Accelerator, it's just-- there's no one else he knows that he imagines could understand his grief in losing the Machine. But he also can't imagine how he'd begin to talk about it, making this whole attempt ill-advised from start to finish.

A few minutes later, separately: ]

My apologies. That was unnecessarily dramatic, and I forgot you're not here to receive my macabre texts. Please don't be alarmed on your return.

[levelshift]

[Too late for that! Though, there's a bit of a delay in between the time when everyone returns from Aphaia and when Accelerator bothers to check his texts.

The mission had been unnecessarily rough. Not that he shouldn't have expected it by now, because missions are almost always difficult in some way, but this was a level of rough he hadn't experienced since the mission involving protecting and destroying stuffed animals. This one, like that one, dragged up old memories, cut open still raw wounds by putting them on public display, and now Accelerator has to contend with Etrayans having seen firsthand how big of a monster he can be. It's no wonder that, upon coming back to Etraya, the first thing he does is go back to his and Laura's apartment and sleeps for six hours straight.

Then he checks his messages and, holy shit, the regret hits him like a tidal wave. Completely ignoring that second text, Accelerator hauls himself out of bed and sends back:]

Yo, what the fuck. What happened?

[This isn't a joke, this isn't just some angsty emotional outburst you'd expect from a kid. This is Harold, Harold wouldn't send something like this if there wasn't a serious problem.

And that in itself is a problem. Being a normal human in no way makes Harold harmless; on the contrary, Accelerator considers him to be one of the most dangerous people here. So if he's feeling off-kilter or worse, then that's potentially threatening for everyone. That isn't even getting to the fact that this is also one of the kindest, most patient, most understanding people in Etraya. Even if he wasn't dangerous Accelerator would still be concerned, because good people like him shouldn't be having days where they want to hurt themselves.

What the hell could have happened? Wouldn't staying behind from the mission have meant some quiet downtime??]

Where are you?

[ornithologist]

[ He hadn't exactly forgotten he'd sent those messages, but Harold has been a bit preoccupied lately with seeing John and Sameen again and the resulting fallout. He'd been getting his feet under him a little, so to speak, in feeling like he's actually here and he is alive and he needs to keep going--

And then he saw John again.

So when Accelerator texts him he's not expecting it, and the regret hits him again with an intense follow-up of self-directed frustration. It's completely inappropriate to express self-harm toward someone this young. Harold doesn't have any ideas that Accelerator looks up to him somehow, but he has firm ideas that the support should go in one direction only, from Harold to Accelerator. ]

I'm sorry, it wasn't right for me to send that message to you. I regained memories from what was once my future and is now my past.

[ He pauses and looks at his message before sending it this time, then adds, ]

I'm all right. I'm not a danger to myself or others. It was just very strange being here alone after I remembered.

[levelshift]

[Both irritation and relief flare up in him when he reads those responses. No one is in any immediate danger, that's good, but none of that negates the fact that the original message was still sent. That Harold sent it and is now saying it was inappropriate - what, going from treating him like an adult to treating him like a kid? - is annoying, but what's more annoying is that he's still concerned. Dismissing those kinds of feelings isn't easy, and he doesn't even want to try doing it.

He pauses, draws in a deep breath, and grabs his crutch. If Harold thinks he's going to say 'Alright, nevermind then,' he has another thing coming.]

Okay. You didn't answer my second question.

[Whatever those memories are obviously messed him up, badly. As uncomfortable as it is for someone so asocial, Accelerator has the undeniable urge to at least try and help, and hopefully not screw it up like he did with Jayce.]

Carver

[ornithologist]

[ At some point during his meanderings around Etraya -- some restless urge to leave and disappear coursing through him, but it's futile, there's nowhere else for him to really go and there's not even anyone here currently for him to disappear from, making the instinct an embarrassingly persistent personal flaw -- he stumbles across a familiar darkened alley and staircase. Down at the bottom is an equally familiar vending machine.

Maybe this had been here before and he'd never noticed it, he doesn't know. His previous self wouldn't have recognized it or known its significance. It could be newly arrived, it could've just come innocuously as set dressing with Ms. Shaw like the library did with him and John. He could try to find out the answer. He could go in; he knows the code. Unless it's changed, though that might be even more disorienting, deja vu that suddenly swerves into dream.

Harold doesn't really want to know, and especially doesn't want to go in, but he nonetheless finds himself drawn there over and over. Infrequently, only when his mind gets away from him, when he can't distract himself with the myriad tedious functions of being alive or with any of his former self's projects.

But a few days after the mission is over and he's had it out with John and with Sameen, his feet bring him back there, and now his heart is twisting and falling over itself in great swooping arcs with loss. The numbness is fading in full and it's horrible, it's terrifying. Down there might be server racks and maybe there's a light blinking. Maybe he's abandoned her again. Maybe he hurt her after promising never to make the same mistake.

Yet that pain feels like hope.

Harold is a silent figure staring at a vending machine when Carver comes in or out, and when he sees him, he jolts in place. Harold stares at him. ]

... Mr. Carver?

[ His arrival feels strange, pushing it toward dream, like he's a character from the wrong play entering stage left. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Like before, like so many times before, Carver arrives silently and dressed in black. Uniforms are important, he knows. Uniforms impart cohesion and purpose, something he's been desperate to claw back and retain at all cost since arriving in this place. He isn't expecting company, though, and watches Harold for a long, silent moment before pushing his hood back. ]

Sir.

[ He cocks his head, doglike. Harold seems different this time. Holding himself with a different sort of stillness. ]

You need something?

[ornithologist]

Oh, [ he breathes out, like he's been struck with a blow, ] please don't show me any respect right now, it's absolutely farcical.

[ Harold simply can't handle the pretense that he's in charge in any way. Not right now. Not with all his mistakes come back for others to pay the price for him.

He tries forcibly to reorient himself to the actual conversation that's currently happening. ] May I ask what you're doing here? [ Even thawing out of shock, painful as healing frostbite, Harold is polite. ]

[fortitudosalutis]

[ Carver watches him for another long moment, reminded uncomfortably of Pope's worst moments. The times beyond his rages and strange moods, when the commander got quiet and melancholy, talking about their ghosts and how he'd failed them. He only ever did it when he was drunk and things always got worse when he sobered up. Harsher.

He twitches. He puts that traitorous thought away in a box and locks it down tight. ]

I live here. [ It takes effort to refrain from adding sir to that. ] It's trapped, though.

[heavensnight]

[they're back from the mission and what a mission that was. it has left Maria a little shell-shocked at first but with a renewed sense of purpose. strange how sad she had felt in February and while the mission had been awful in so many ways, she feels just a little more optimistic. she knows who she wants to be here, what she wants to do, and she knows who she cares about; the people who matter. once she's gotten herself situated, she is making her rounds to the people she wants to check in on.

Harold is one of them. though she's never found him particularly easy to find. Maria knows where he is, of course, but he usually finds her if it isn't about walking Bear. he's last on her list for that reason only and if anything, this has given her a little bounce to her step. all the better for Harold even if she assumes he must have had an easy time of it. no mission after all.

still, she heads to the library, wanting to check in on him. there's a quick message to him that she wants to see him before she goes to where she knows he lives.]

Heyyy 💖 I was gonna head over to see you? if you can spare me a moment, busy bee

[ornithologist]

[ Harold is never a particularly outgoing person, but after the end of the mission he doesn't even try to reach out to anyone who's returned past his grief-riddled conversation with Shaw and his embarrassing, ill-advised message to Accelerator. Keeping to himself is harder when someone he likes and cares for is trying to pry that shell open, however. It might even be a little nice to talk to someone uninvolved who's actually an adult; he doesn't have to couch his words as much. ]

I can always find a moment for you, Ms. Maria, but I'm afraid I won't be good company. I hope you're faring well after the mission.

[heavensnight]

[ah, that response is a little worrying. had something happened here while they were gone?]

I'm not dead, and nobody died for me this time, so we'll count that as a plus.

but hey, if you want, I can bring you a sandwich from the bodega and we call it a day? I just want to make sure my favorites are all in one piece.

[tinflower]

[ It's Day Way Too Many since Harold disappeared...

Which fucks Gorgug up a lot than he was prepared for, admittedly. His progress on their networking system comes to a crawl, considering he isn't sure if he's capable of running it on his own. People returning isn't as common as them just being gone, and what does it mean if Harold is gone?

Well, if John is out on his mission and hasn't poofed as well, then it's going to mean the man of few words is going to be without him: John Reese is going to come back to his partner vanished. And-- Gorgug thinks they're dating? Maybe dating? At the very least, they have a close enough bond that Gorgug understands what it can mean to lose a partner you trust wholeheartedly (or as Harold pretty much described John, but he's going to say there's something mutual there).

Gorgug's been in this position. And Gorgug's fairly sure there's nothing he can do, but he's fond of John enough to feel guilty over what's occurred, even if he knows there's nothing he could've done, or do even now. It's a guilt that turns into general bad feelings, but still!

He also realises quickly just how much of a difference having Harold around in an otherwise empty Etraya was, even with the empty rooms of Seacaster Manor to remind him of the decision made by sticking back. Gorgug eventually makes some progress on the automatons meant for protecting the outside of barrier despite the lack of the networking whizz to collaborate with, remembering that they need to be made, if nothing else, or his missing the mission will be in vain.

So, despite a couple day of hesitance of touching the network they were putting together, Gorgug does start resuming on that side of the project, if just to sync the automaton's recording features to the network. And also, he has a dog to visit: one Bear, whose lonely status only cements to Gorgug what's to come.

And you know what? Gorgug knows he can't shove cooked meat at John, but he can surely do that for Bear each day. Cooked from raw, fresh from the meat market! When he got it, anyway.

Which means that Gorgug comes to visit the library, since he isn't sure where to go to the apartments... and Bear hangs around the building, so he leaves a front door propped opened to allow the dog access in and out while he isn't there. The same door that Gorgug comes through on Day Way Too Many, with his backpack and its container of food inside for one poor, poor pup, and the bowl to put it in.

He just needs to find Bear first, calling with the most saddened voice appropriate for an orphaned child of two men. ]

Hellloooo? Beeaar doog.... it's me...! Heeree, Bear dog, bear dog, bear dog...!

[ You can't even tell a dog one of their dads is possibly gone forever.... it's too sad. ]

[ornithologist]

[ Harold is not doing well. That he'd been doing work with Gorgug at all is a distant memory to him now, something that happened years ago and prior to a whole parade of drama and tragedy. He's reviewed his own communications since waking up in Etraya, of course, looked over the work he'd been in the middle of, but it hadn't seemed to matter. None of it sunk in or even seemed real.

He does keep himself steady enough to regularly return to the library and make sure Bear is fed and taken care of, which is how he stumbles across Gorgug calling out in a sorrowful tone.

Harold is going on two days wearing the same suit. Considering his normal scrupulous appearance, that he looks ruffled at all is notable, and his expression is cast in blank surprise as he finds Gorgug. He'd just automatically walked over when he heard his voice, carrying a bag of dog supplies himself, Bear jogging lightly behind. ]

Mr. Thistlespring?

[ It's as much a reminder to himself as a greeting. There are real people here, aren't there? And some of them are very tall and very green.

Bear has no such qualms; he bounds right up to Gorgug with enthusiastic affection. ]

[tinflower]

[ Gorgug startles.

It's not subtle. The instant Harold Finch walks into his view, Gorgug jumps back a couple of steps, his arms coming up in front of his chest and shivering with the 'Euurrghhg!' noise that he makes, like Harold could have been any form of abomination coming out to spook him at that moment.

He doesn't do well with being spooked. And even hearing his own name-- ]

H-hi? [ Gets something unsure and scared. But with Bear coming under his feet and Gorgug having those growing seconds to realise who he's looking at, he's-- well, his heart is still coming down, but he's starting to believe what he's seeing! ]

Y-you're real? You came back? [ Oh. Oh. His eyes are widening, and - more to himself - he says with relief: ] I don't have to tell John I lost you.

[ Oh, sweet mercy! ]

[aimsforknees]

[ John is drunk enough and it's late enough in the day that he's going to drag himself to the sofa again soon, but there's one last thing he needs to do after talking with Maria. He types very carefully, far more carefully than when he was messaging Maria, because this is Harold. ]

Can I have three days.

[ornithologist]

Of course, John.

[ Harold doesn't hesitate to agree, sensitive to boundaries as ever, but he does think to add a note of caution. He'll leave off tracing and monitoring John for the three days, but he's trusting him not to make him regret it. ]

I'll give you some privacy. Please take care.

[aimsforknees]

[ John isn't sure if he should thank Harold for that, or what he should say. He still feels so unsure of how to talk to Harold outside of the impersonal distance their breakfast conversations have carried. It's one thing to tell Harold the facts of how the mission went and entirely another to respond to Please take care. So he's about to not reply but that also feels wrong and he's... committing to something, here. To trying. So he tries. ]

I will.

[ The next three days are miserable. He's done this before, back when Harold first recruited him, and it's thankfully not as bad this time. Still, sobering up after that many days of nonstop drinking is unpleasant. He's still not feeling 100% by the time the evening of the third day rolls around, but he's past the worst of it so he sends the text he's been thinking about. ]

Can I make breakfast tomorrow?

[ He's not sure Harold will want that. It's a breach of the space Harold has cultivated between them, John trying to close that gap again, inch by inch. It's not living together in the library again, but it's a call back to those days. But he's decided that if he wants that life back then he's going to have to work for it. ]