[ They're finally communicating, and it's just as painful as he'd thought it would be. Typically, they leave things unsaid; they demonstrate through actions how much they matter to one another; they take what they give each other and they don't ask for more. That's always been enough for Harold, more than he thought he'd ever get. He'd truly tried to isolate himself until his death, hadn't intended to befriend John at all.

Now he doesn't know how to live without him. In the quiet domesticity of Etraya, it even feels possible to be greedy for more. To ask for it instead of just mutely accept what's on offer. ]

I don't want you to comfort me, [ Harold answers, strength entering his voice. ] I should be the one comforting you.

[ He's drilled down to the innermost part of himself and found at his core that he can bear up under much more than he thought he could. The pain will stay with him forever, the grief, but he can move through it still. But John asked him a direct question and he does answer that, forcing the same lack of ambiguity from himself that he'd asked for from John. ]

I've been on this crusade for so long. I didn't expect to outlive it-- no, [ he corrects himself harshly, ] I didn't want to outlive it. I never looked to have something past that, or have someone with me.

But we... found something together, didn't we? [ Cautiously, slowly, ] Something more than just the mission.

[ Harold halts, awkward, wanting confirmation. He knows it's true but there's a reason they haven't said it out loud before, and there's value and fragility in doing it now, in admitting that they'd found something together not just worth dying for, but possibly living for as well. ]

I wasn't prepared to lose that, too.