The Chauffeur Chapter 7
Harold harrumphed to himself then was quiet, even though his muscles still twitched and rippled. John felt Finch’s body tremors vibrate deeply into his own body. Reese wanted nothing more than to hold Harold tightly to him and will the spasms to go away. But all John could do was wrap his arms loosely around Finch’s waist. He could only use his chest and shoulder as a buffer protecting Harold’s neck while Finch’s head convulsed as a drumbeat against him. Reese couldn't stop the sob that escaped his throat. Frustration was tearing his eyes because he couldn't do a damn thing to stop any of this.
A trembling hand clasped one of his then. “You don’t...have to stay...Nathan…I’ll be fine.” Harold gulped out brokenly.
John blinked the moisture out of his eyes, pulled free from Harold’s right hand only to grasp it under his own palm, tracing its knuckles with his thumb, “I’m not going anywhere.” John could continue trying to distract Harold though by keeping him talking, “Besides, I want to hear more about your John, before I go. How does he treat you?”
“Treat me, Nathan?” Harold asked again through gritted teeth.
“Is he good to you?”
“Yes.” Harold sighed.
John waited for Finch to continue and prodded gently when Harold said no more. “Tell me, he does more than bring you tea?”
Harold sniffed almost disdainfully, “He brought me a dog. It chewed a rare Asimov the first day. I didn't even want that dog in the Library after seeing the mangled book in his mouth.”
“A dog!?” John played along. “You hate dogs.”
“I don’t hate them. I just never had any use for them.” Harold corrected loftily. “Except Bear.” Finch confessed, his voice lowering with affection. “He…protects me. Bear is a loyal companion and friend.” And amazement tinged Harold’s voice again, “Just like John, I think Bear also enjoys being around me. And...I love having Bear with me. He keeps me from being lonely when I need to be alone.” Harold took a few shaky breaths, “Bear is not just a dog, Nathan, he’s a precious gift to me. Do you think John knows?”
“I think John wishes he could be there to protect you all the time. He can’t, so he got you the next best thing.”
Finch chuckled to himself, “Yes, well, Bear is the canine equivalent to John.” Harold paused briefly, then his tone became serious, “Ex-military, abused and betrayed by handlers they trusted. They both needed rescuing.” Modestly Finch admitted, “John’s thanked me for saving him, although to me it has always been the other way around. If I have, then he certainly has returned the favor more than once.”
“John rescued Bear.” Harold continued reflectively, “Then he gave Bear to me. John’s still returning that favor, trying to keep me safe, even when he can’t be there himself.” Harold scolded himself, “I should praise John for bringing Bear to me. If John doesn't know how deeply appreciated Bear’s presence is in my life then I am to blame for not speaking up.”
Harold sighed then grumbled affectionately, “Now, if only I could get them to treat my books with more respect.”
Reese buried his face behind Harold’s shoulder hiding a grin and stifling a chuckle. John had never wanted to maul any of Finch’s books, had even enjoyed reading a few, but on the appreciation scale for Harold’s precious rare editions Reese’s was closer to Bear’s.
Harold shrugged his shoulders, “Still, disdain for the love of rare volumes aside, I am so lucky to have them as my family.”
John snapped his head up, completely surprised by Harold’s confession. He had been elated watching Harold and Bear grow close. Reese knew Finch had put up with the dog in the beginning, probably just to placate John, but to watch them bond together over time had filled John’s heart with joy, but to hear Harold call Reese and Bear his family was a shock.
“Family?” John tried to hide the surprise in his voice.
Reese hadn't noticed, so intent hearing Harold's admissions, that while he had kept Finch talking the spasms that had been racking Harold’s body had tapered off and ceased. Reese could tell the other man was beginning to doze off when Harold was silent again. Maybe John should have let him go to sleep. It might have been a bit selfish, but Reese needed know what Harold had meant by family.
John re-positioned them both on the bed slightly just enough to wake Harold. Then he repeated his question, “Family?”
Harold sighed wistfully. “Not a traditional family, like you, your wife and son, Nathan. I might have had one with Grace; I truly believed I wanted to start a family with her when I proposed. Now, I know it wouldn't have lasted, our life together was based on a foundation of lies.”
Finch paused briefly, curbing the sadness that had colored his words about what would never be, before he swallowed and took a deep breath. Harold reached across his chest with his left hand to lightly placed it on John’s right, the one still caressing Harold’s other hand before Finch spoke again, unwavering.
John heard the affection and conviction in the strength of Harold’s words. “John, Bear and even Miss Shaw, they are my family now. I love them all, dearly. And I am completely, totally in love with John Reese. He may not know my name, no one does, not even you, Nathan, but everything that is important in who I am, what I am, I've never held back from John.”
“Well there is one thing,” Harold admitted. “I never told him where I live; that I've been living here since the accident. I’m going to tell him. I’m going to tell him...everything.”
Harold told himself softly yet sternly. “No secrets“
Then again to the friend he thought he was speaking to Harold confided, “John knows and accepts me. I thank you for helping me to understand that Nathan. Now if I could only be sure that John could possibly return my love.”
Harold gasped out, pulling both his hands away from Reese’s before sitting up and clutching at his stomach. “Do you think….John...loves me?”
Reese tried to let Harold know, answering once again as the illusion of Finch’s best friend Nathan, “Yes John loves you, it is obvious if you look my friend.” But Finch was in pain, holding his clenching middle and didn't seem to hear a word Nathan/John said.
Fortunately the cramping lasted briefly, the nausea and vomiting thankfully had finally stopped. When Harold lay back against John he was gasping for breath, but otherwise seemed okay. The coolness of Harold’s undershirt touching his bare skin made John aware that Finch’s t-shirt and boxers were drenched from Harold’s sweat. Slowly moving out from behind Harold, John slid from the bed while gently lowering Finch against the pillows still propped against the headboard.
Harold’s eyes stayed closed as his breathing slowed and evened out, but Finch called out “Nathan?” when he felt John move away from the bed.
John reached down and gently clasped Harold’s shoulder, “I’ll be right back. Just going into the bathroom to get something to wash you up and dry you off.”
Harold nodded his head slightly, but stayed silent.
Reese waited a few minutes and then picked up the towel and the dishpan to head for the bath to clean them both out. Harold had finally fallen asleep and John thought he wouldn't even notice his soiled undergarments being removed or Reese washing him up with a soapy towel dipped in the clean dishpan filled with warm water.
Reese stripped Harold from his soaked clothes and covered him from the waist down with a sheet. Finch barely stirred as John washed his face and neck before wiping one arm, then the other. When he was almost finished washing Finch’s chest, Harold opened his eyes looking at John fuzzily, blinking it away.
“John? You've been here the whole time.” Harold frowned at his words, realizing more than questioning. John could tell he was sorting through the night’s events in his mind so Reese spoke up.
“Yes. We brought you here. You had a pretty rough night. I've been taking care of you. Shaw’s in the other room if we need her.”
“I think I’m fine now, John. Miss Shaw can check on me later. I need to know something first.” Harold looked at John clear eyed and hopeful.
“Okay Harold. Ask away.” John couldn't control the loving look that covered his face or the happiness in the smile he gave back.
“I thought you were Nathan.” Harold acknowledged that in his delirium he had thought to be speaking to his friend. “I admitted my feelings about you to him.”
“Yes.” John’s smile grew wider. “You told him--me--quite a few things.”
“I meant them, every word, John.” Harold held Reese’s gaze letting John see the love, truth, and hope written across his face.
“I know, Harold. I think I've always known. I just let my fear that you couldn't ever love me, the real John Reese; hold me back from believing any of our times together might be real. It was easier for me to pretend than risk being hurt if you couldn't.”
Harold reached up and stroked John’s face lovingly. “It was the same for me. Afraid you could never love the real me, afraid to act, saving myself from the pain of rejection by pretense. I love you John, I love John Reese.”
Harold slowly lowered his hand from John’s face, sliding it down Reese’s bare shoulder and arm, stopping at the hand John hadn't removed from Finch’s chest after Harold had opened his eyes.
Intertwining John’s fingers with his own, Harold searched Reese’s face, a mixture of fear and hope in his own eyes. “You were pretending to be Nathan. Nathan...you...told me I only had to look. I would see that you loved me. I am looking now.”
“What do you see Harold?”
Harold eyes seemed to be boring into John’s very soul. “A man who loves me.”
“More than life itself.” John bent his head to kiss Harold sweetly, gently on the lips.
“I am not myself yet John. Sleep, just sleep with me now?” Harold pleaded when John raised his head from their kiss. “I want to make love with John Reese when I wake again.”
John stripped himself and crawled into bed with a still naked Harold. “Harold, I never…” Harold slipped an arm under John’s side and pulled him closer, “It’s okay, we can shower together later.”
John reached out pulling the sheet and the comforter over them both. Harold whispered into the half-light of early morning, ”John, you are in my home and in my bed.” Harold turned and whispered in John’s ear, “My name is…” Both men fell asleep seconds after their hushed, ”I love you, John. I love you too...Harold.”
Sam Shaw woke up to sunlight warming her face. She slowly got up from the couch, muscles complaining from eight hours spent sleeping on the rock hard cushions. She tiptoed over to the bedroom door before slowly and quietly opening it.
Both men were naked, bare arms and legs sticking out from under sheet and blanket. She shut the door quickly, two unclothed men in bed was something she really did not want to see for more than the few seconds it took for her to decide that Finch was okay.
Regardless Shaw had a smile on her lips as she patted Bear, told the dog to watch out for them and then let herself out of the apartment.
~*~
The Chauffeur
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue