etrayalogs | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Never said it had to be with your fists, [ Carver points out softly. He watches Harold, considering the situation, and realizes that it reminds him of some of Pope’s earlier tests, the ones that didn’t usually involve pain. Just a conversation and all the things churning underneath.

He lays his hands flat on his knees, centering himself. ]

Do you know what I did in the Army? Have you guessed?

Not with my fists and not otherwise. [ Running away is more his poison of choice.

The veer in the conversation is a surprise, and Harold looks up with mild interest, raising his eyebrows. He's read Carver's file and John has passed on some intel, but that doesn't tell him everything.

It's more his experience with Carver himself that leads him to say, ] I don't know the specifics, but I imagine you were an interrogator.

Winner, winner.

[ In the end, it’s not a huge surprise that Harold guessed it correctly. This isn’t a profession for fools. The mask Carver pulls wouldn’t hold for long against a team like this.

He meets Harold’s gaze, steady and calm. ]

Most people assume I was just a door kicker. I like that assumption. It makes people stupid. Gives me openings.

[ Not Harold, though. ]

Means I’m good at reading people. And you need to find a way to let some steam off, or you’ll wind yourself tighter and tighter until something really does give.

[ Carver is so reserved and unforthcoming himself, but he always says just enough to compel the other person to keep the conversation going. Harold thinks of Detective Carter, another military interrogator, and is momentarily struck with an older loss. These pangs keep hitting him out of the blue, some softer, some harsher --

Which he supposes is Carver's point. He decides not to point out that this is some very astute back-talk, lest he scares him off from speaking further. ]

You're right, [ he admits, staring down into his tea, tracing one finger along the rim of the mug. ] I've always been the sort to... quietly implode.

[ A pause as he runs through what possible options he has to let off steam. ]

Would you like to go bird watching with me? There must be birds in Etraya. [ Also, if he takes Carver with him, John can perhaps suppress the need to stalk him to ensure his safety out in the wilderness. ]

[ Quietly implode, Harold says, and Carver inclines his head slightly because yeah, that sounds about right. Sounds, too, like the result they were inching toward one moment after another, one conversation after the next. These things happen but you always have choices about how to control yourself, how you react.

Still. His eyebrows lift a touch. ]

You're really committed to the bit, huh? Sure, I'll go bird watching with you, Harold.

[ He doesn't understand the appeal, but that's okay. He doesn't have to. It's not about him. ]

[ It actually takes him a moment to understand what Carver means, and it restores a bit of his usual dry humor to him. ]

The interest in birds preceded the names, for the record, [ he informs him. ] Although I suppose you only know me as Finch here, don't you?

[ It seems quite pointless after Samaritan's demise to hold so tightly to his secrets anymore. Not that Harold is going to start spilling personal details, but something like his variety of bird-themed identities seems hardly worth protecting. It's a completely different perspective than the one he'd had last time he was in Etraya, when it seemed so important to hold onto everything possible, dole out truths piece by piece.

Harold is as tired of protecting himself as he is of others protecting him. ]

I only need to know you as Finch.

[ He assumed there were other identities. There would've had to be, given the line of work. Maybe one day he'll need to hunt them out, but not just yet. ]

Why birdwatching?

True enough, [ he allows.

Harold is feeling freer with what he shares now, but topics like his father are still under lock and key for the most part, so he compromises. ]

I've always found it soothing. [ He brightens up a little as something occurs to him, Harold drawn into the idea of birdwatching despite himself. ] There's probably some unique species around Etraya, if I had to guess.

[ Soothing. Maybe it would be, Carver supposes. He watches Harold for a moment, then nods. ]

One of the kids I trained liked that shit. He could do all the calls, too.

[ He misses Bossie, who’d secretly been Carver’s favorite and who deserved a better death than he’d gotten. ]

I think I'd embarrass myself trying that, [ he says wryly, ] but it is an enviable skill.

[ There's a moment's pause before he reroutes the conversation. ]

Thank you, Brandon. [ If he's allowed to call him Harold, he'll first name him right back. ] I think it's safe to say your probationary period is over. If you'll have us, that is.

[ That gets a slight twinge, some emotion that Carver doesn’t allow himself to name. No one but Leah calls him by his given name these days. He wonders what it means that Harold has and tells himself it doesn’t matter in the same breath. ]

Okay, [ he agrees, simple as that. Where else would he go? ]

[ There's always a second choice, no matter how unattractive it may seem, so Harold doesn't take it for granted that Carver would want to continue working with them.

He gets to his feet. Nothing else needs to be said here, as far as he can tell. ]

I'll do some looking into suitable birdwatching locations and be in touch.

[ Carver stands when Harold does, respectful. ]

Okay.

[ He doesn't call Harold sir. It's not that sort of moment, he thinks. ]

Sound off when you're ready.

I won't run, the guilt is mine

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject