etrayalogs | I won't run, the guilt is mine

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I won't run, the guilt is mine

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.

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[Now that Harold isn't denying it Accelerator doesn't mind calling it out. At least, he doesn't mind doing it while it's just the two of them around. Harold is still a private person, after all.]

That's good, then.

[That she knew. She deserved to know. Any child would, whether they were artificial or not.]

[ He's relieved not to be prodded further. That was already so many more words about the Machine than he's ever spoken to anyone who wasn't Root or Nathan before. ]

Thank you, [ he says, trusting he doesn't need to say precisely what he's thanking him for. ]

Did you come out of the mission all right? From what Mr. Reese told me, it sounds like it was positively dreadful. [ Harold hates being noticed at all, much less put in the public eye; he thinks he might vaporize on the spot if he was ever surrounded by paparazzi and cameras like that. ]

[Accelerator resists the urge to wave Harold off for thanking him, same as he's resisting the urge to ask for details about what exactly went down when he went back home. It's Harold's personal business and if he doesn't want to talk about what caused that text, so be it.

The question about the mission comes as a surprise, and he purses his lips.]

... I've been through worse.

[He looks down at his hands, curling them into fists. Maybe he should stop there, leave it at that. But what John saw... John and everyone else who had the misfortune of witnessing his memories. He isn't sure he can leave it at that. He isn't sure if he should.]

Reese saw some shit from my memories. I don't know if he'll tell you about it.

[Objectively speaking, it would be the right thing to do to inform Harold that he's wasting his time on someone who tortured and murdered innocent children. But this is John, a private person who's committed his own fair share of atrocities, so Accelerator isn't totally sure what he'll do.]

Probably not, [ Harold demurs. They're professional spies, not gossips, for one thing; for another, he isn't currently talking to John. Not that he's about to bring that up to Accelerator, who he's sure would have plenty of disparaging things to say about it. ]

We tend not to share personal information on mutual acquaintances unless there's a good reason to do so. And sharing memories is horribly intrusive in the first place. [ That's a good enough explanation, and true.

He looks over and raises his eyebrows in mild invitation. ] Did you want to tell me about it?

[He nods slowly. That's reasonable to assume, that John won't say anything, even though the irrational nagging in his mind isn't letting up. At least the answer to Harold's question is easy.]

No.

[Despite being open about his conviction he hasn't gone into details about the clones. They deserve better than that, and... there's that creeping fear of what could happen if he was completely honest. But his own stupid fear of being alone isn't fair to the Sisters either, is it? He did horrible things to them and he shouldn't be hiding it.

He sighs heavily, leaning forward, dragging his hands down his face.]

But I feel like I should.

[ Harold immediately and automatically thinks of Grace, and how much he'd always felt he should've told her. But her own words ring in his mind, her stunning example of what trust looks like in full, and it gives his response to Accelerator a measured cadence. An internal conflict he's long wrestled with himself. ]

Please don't share anything for my sake, [ he tells him, tone assured and unpressing. ] It's truly unnecessary. But if it would bring you any solace, feel free.

Edited 2025-03-29 18:34 (UTC)

[That's a relief. Should that be a relief? Or should he feel guilty for considering taking advantage of Harold's good nature? He isn't really sure. This isn't like with Yoshikawa, who took part in the experiment, or Yomikawa, who read up on him using her Anti-Skill access to the city's data banks. This is uncharted territory.]

I don't know.

[Maybe he should just drop it. He shouldn't have brought it up to begin with.]

I can't figure out if talking about it would be selfish on my part, like I'm looking for fucking pity or something. I'm not.

[ Sometimes Harold is forcibly reminded that Accelerator is such a teenager. Worrying about being selfish by sharing, that he might be looking for pity... it's such a juvenile concern. It feels remote and abstract to Harold, but in a way that makes him fond, abruptly remembering just why he'd felt comfortable enough to send that ill-advised text in the first place. ]

I don't pity you, [ he tells him bluntly, a strange form of reassurance but one that seems warranted. ] I've read your file. But I can care about someone while still expecting them to be held accountable for their actions.

[ Having so much of his life and self-protection stripped away in the war with Samaritan has left Harold far more direct, almost merciless in his mercy. Their time feels so short. ]

[That gives Accelerator pause, and not solely because it's what he's been pushing for after returning from England. Harold being this direct is a bit of a surprise, and weirdly enough it doesn't feel like an unwelcome one. He's gotten confirmation he isn't about to get some dismissive remarks or whatever that try and excuse what he did. Accountability, that's what he wanted when he manipulated his trial into finding him guilty of all charges, so... as awful as it is, it's reassuring to hear.

He draws in a deep breath, his voice quiet.]

Reese saw a memory of an experiment I was involved in, the Level 6 Shift. In it I tortured and killed a girl. There were ten thousand and thirty-one of those trials before the experiment got shut down.

[ Harold has changed over the past couple years, grown both more openly emotional and more resilient, but he hasn't fundamentally changed much. His face twists into a kind of shocked sadness, repelled by senseless violence the same way he's always been. ]

... Does that mean you killed ten thousand and thirty-one girls?

[ It's an inevitable conclusion, and he has to ask. It's a number that's hard to contemplate and near impossible to fathom one person being responsible for. ]

[Accelerator nods mutely. Even just bringing the experiment up like this causes his mind to recall the trials, taking place in secrecy in various laboratories under ground, some of them with only a single Sister, others with up to a dozen of them. He hasn't forgotten a single one.]

Twenty thousand and one clones in total, with those first twenty thousand created solely for me to kill them.

[Eros and Thanatos is what Last Order had called him. Even though he still doesn't like it, he supposes she's correct.]

How is that even possible? [ Harold gets stuck on the incredulity of it, the magnitude. Imagine having the capability to clone humans on that scale and using it for grotesque experiments. ]

That would've been-- multiple, every day. How are you sane at all?

[ Frankly he's surprised that Accelerator is as stable as he is now. Turns out his file hadn't been exaggerating after all. ]

[He only shrugs, having never given the logistics much thought.]

Academy City had the technology and resources. That's all.

[Does it matter? It Aleister wanted it done, it got done. He's learned to not question the viability of that maniac's plans.

Harold's second question causes a humourless, squeaky laugh to bubble out of him.]

Ha ha. Come on, espers are by definition delusional. No Level 5 is completely stable. I've just gotten good at keeping myself under control. [Because he's well aware of what happens if he doesn't.]

Oh, please. You aren't delusional.

[ Normally Harold has more patience for carefully making his way around someone else's self-image, but today is not that day. He sounds mildly annoyed. ]

You're extremely rational on every matter except yourself. Which means you're doing markedly better than most of the rest of us, to be honest.

If what happened to you had happened to me, I would be a gibbering puddle. [ Harold is pretty confident about that, considering just getting a few of his friends killed was enough to reduce him to a shell wandering the empty streets of Etraya. ]

[He very nearly has a genuine laugh at Harold saying an esper isn't delusional. It's funny, hilarious.]

I have good days and bad days. For an esper, anyways. [He reaches up, tapping the side of his head.] Dissociating from reality, remember.

[Though to be fair, these days his brain injury forces him to experience reality in a manner closer to normal humans.]

Anyways, there are consequences everyone has to deal with if I go off the handle. It's... happened a few times, but I try to avoid it.

[It feels bizarre admitting that, but unlike his allies from Academy City Harold has never been around to experience those times firsthand, so unless he brings it up he wouldn't know.]

I'm sorry, do you think the rest of us don't dissociate? I spent at least five minutes staring at our hot water dispenser yesterday.

[ Maybe that's too direct and too honest, but Harold is not in possession of an abundance of patience right now. He refuses to believe Accelerator is that characteristically different from a standard human being, or at least not in any way that matters, but he has the sense not to open that can of worms. ]

Some of us just have much more dire consequences to losing control than others.

[ Harold sounds perfectly frank. He's had to accept recently that he's one of them, something he'd spent years twisting himself into knots to avoid, but he's there now. And it is true that some people and some entities, like the Machine, can only afford an incredibly small margin for error. ]

[Accelerator opens his mouth to argue that regular people, unless they've got some really serious problems, only do it temporarily. For espers it's constant, just their baseline existence. Supernatural powers through mental illness, or something.

But really, the more important thing here is that Harold was dissociating and Accelerator glances over, that same concern from earlier flaring up again.]

Did that have something to do with the text you sent me?

[And this whole business with the Machine? Sure seems like it right this moment.]

[ Maybe he's wrong. Maybe Harold is being stubbornly idealistic about the whole thing -- again. But as he'd once said to John, he'd rather be proven wrong about this than doubt someone else's humanity and be proven right.

He hadn't really meant that as an invitation to prod him further about his own problems, and he looks disgruntled briefly but then gets himself together. He's not going to hint at being passively suicidal again, but he can be honest about some aspects of what's going on for him. Especially since Accelerator just was with him. ]

Yes. I'm finding it hard to reconcile what happened over the past few years.

[From Harold's expression Accelerator is actually expecting him to change the subject instead of answering his question. He wouldn't blame him for wanting to do that, it had taken a lot for him to broach the subject of the clones.

Whatever happened to Harold back home was bad, he gets that much.]

A few years? You were gone for that long?

[He blinks at that. Is time travel whiplash a thing?]

It was highly disorienting coming back, and to an empty city, [ he says with wry agreement. ]

The text I sent you was a low moment for me. I'm... well. [ Not doing better, necessarily, but. ] I'm no longer doubtful of the basic nature of reality in Etraya, so there's been improvement.

[ Highly disorienting was maybe an understatement. ]

[Harold, that sounds like one tiny baby step forward.]

That's... something, at least. [It's far better than Harold being in some permanent delusional or suicidal state.] Has Reese being back helped?

[He's assuming that's what did it.]

[ There's a moment's awkward pause before he answers, gaze darting away, unable to maintain eye contact. This isn't exactly a secret worth keeping, he knows, but it's still hard to say. ]

... Considering he should be deceased, [ he says evenly, ] not really.

[ That's one way of putting it, and not untrue. Harold is having a hard time looking at John even when he isn't sticking his foot in his mouth. ]

[Oops.

The thought of John being dead in addition to the Machine never once occurred to him, even though it should have. Accelerator stares at Harold, dumbfounded and feeling really stupid right now.

Of course. The text makes even more sense now.]

What?

[ There's nothing he can possibly say in response that won't cross that line Harold doesn't want to cross, where a nearly 60 year old man ends up crying on a teenager. So he just maintains his level, vacant gaze at the hospital doors, his earlier comments perhaps coming into focus. ]

It happened recently from our perspectives. I'm finding it difficult to carry on as normal.

[Thankfully, Accelerator doesn't make any move to touch Harold. Physical comfort is not something he's any good at, and he wouldn't know where to begin. He blinks, then stops staring by pulling his gaze away, back down to his hands.]

Oh. [Yeah, okay, all of this makes a hell of a lot of sense now.]

... Yeah, that's a really fucked up position for you to be in. [Not that he'd say John should die, but him being dead and then not and yet still having that inevitable death looming over him is insane.] You can't mourn him, but you also can't really be happy he's alive here. Right?

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