fortitudosalutis: (072)
Brandon Carver ([personal profile] fortitudosalutis) wrote in [community profile] etrayalogs 2025-06-09 02:15 am (UTC)

[ Another choice. What a terrible thing to offer, Carver thinks, stricken. He wants to scoff at it or maybe stalk up and hit Harold. Knock him on his ass and force the balance between them to reset or maybe just break once and for all because at least that would make sense. It would slot the world back into alignment, to fit the shape Pope spent a lifetime demanding of it.

Carver feels his fingers twitch. He wants to pace, to move, to do something with his hands, but that's a sin. That's an awful goddamn sin. Pope always hated it when he paced. When he couldn't stop himself because it felt like he'd die if he couldn't move. If he had to hold still for even a second.

Stand up straight, the commander hisses in his ear. What the fuck is wrong with you, son?

And still Harold stays calm, his voice unchanging. Soft and deliberate, the words precise. All things are, with Harold Finch. And in that moment, it's easy to understand why Shaw and John follow him. Why they committed the way they did. And maybe Carver sympathizes, because he'd wanted a better world once too, when Matthew - ]


Oh, [ Carver realizes, with a sudden burst of bleak clarity. His voice is soft. ] Oh, Pope's gonna kill me for this.

[ Doubt is a weakness. Doubt is betrayal. ]

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