Second Chances Chapter Eleven
John's Last Look, Telling Grace
John had been released from the hospital two days ago. He had gone to the loft, called everyone in on his plan and as soon as he could went to the Library. Reese felt as though he was walking into the abandoned building the Library appeared to be from the outside.
Physically nothing was changed. Everything was as they had left it two weeks ago. Two things were missing, of course, the things that made the Library alive. One was Harold.
The other thing missing was Bear. John would do something to reward Leon for taking care of Bear these past few weeks, thankfully the dog had been with the accountant that night.
Leon had been an annoying repeat number for them. As weird as it was now, John trusted the man with his and Harold’s dog. Now more importantly he trusted Leon’s computer skills enough for him to take Harold’s place helping other numbers.
Only Reese would not trust Finch’s computers with the man, they were almost sacred now. John had found another vacant building, a new lair so to speak, to continue his and Harold’s mission. Leon had seen Finch’s system and worked with it. The former account had amazed John with how quickly he set up his own network after Reese had told Tau what needed to be done. It wasn’t Harold’s but it would have to do.
After resting like Reese had been told, well for a few days anyways, he was back in the Library. John covered Finch’s monitors with plastic covers, reverently running his hands over each one as he did. Next were the numerous towers, keyboards and mice. All were under their own covers. Lastly John covered the whole workstation with a gray tarp.
When that was done Reese crated up most of Harold’s most precious and rare editions. He had paid some movers handsomely, no questions asked, to move the crates to a climate controlled storage facility. Reese found a place where Finch’s books would be safe for years.
While the movers loaded up the many crates of books into their truck, John packed up their personal belongings. Finch's earthenware pot, for heating water; his favorite mug, why Finch loved that cracked cup he’d never found out; a razor, shaving cream, cologne, he found in the restroom; Finch’s overcoat he’d left hanging on the coat rack, to warm to wear it that last night they left together.
John lifted it to his nose, the coat smelled so much like Harold. When one of the movers came back up the steps, John hastily folded the coat and put it in a box.
When John had everything he couldn’t bear to leave behind packed up, the last of his and Harold’s personal effects in his car, the movers gone, and Bear’s toys, bed and food in the trunk, John locked the gate. He knew it would be the last time. John felt like nothing more could be ripped from his soul, now he felt like his soul itself was torn from him.
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Reese knocked on the door of the apartment across from Washington Square Park; the one John had discovered Grace Hendricks lived in. Harold’s former fiance, the woman Harold had left behind three years ago, the woman Finch still loved and protected though she thought him dead.
Reese didn’t want to do this, a part of him wanted to selfishly keep Finch to himself. To never tell Harold about Grace and never inform Grace Harold was alive and needed her. But Reese had to do his, he had to make sure Harold had something to hold on to while he healed. Harold needed Grace not him.
When the door opened, the beautiful redheaded woman asked, “May I help you? John could see recognition dawn on her face, “Detective Stills, right?”
There was no turning back now. “No, my name is John Reese. May I come in, please? I need to break some news to you. It’s about Harold.”
The color drained from her face as she opened the door to let him in. “Yes, of course.”
John walked into the room; it was much the same as when he was there a year ago. “Maybe you should sit down. What I have to tell you will be upsetting, for that I am sorry.”
Grace looked very confused but still took a seat on her sofa. She looked up at John, “What about Harold?”
It was now or never. “Harold is alive,” John calmly told her.
He watched her turn deathly white, the news shocking her. Disbelief marred her features. “How?” she finally managed to ask.
John let out a breath and began to tell her the story he had had made up. John told the white lies; Grace listened, hopefully believing them.
“Again, my name is John Reese. I was a U.S. marshal; I was assigned to protect Harold. I used to work for the Justice Department.”
“Harold worked for the crime boss Carl Elias. Mr. Fischer, yes Harold’s real name, came to us eight years ago. Harold didn’t know he would be working for Elias when he accepted the job, it was only later that he found out.”
“Harold is an honest and good man and offered his help to do what was right, get a criminal behind bars. In exchange for his help gathering enough evidence to convict Elias, we offered him a new name, a new life.”
“For five years Fischer continued working for Elias, helping us gather evidence. But Elias always seemed to be one step ahead of us. Even with Harold’s help, we could never get solid evidence, enough to convict him.”
“In those five years Fischer and I became very good friends. I think I was his only friend, I know he was mine. In my job you learn not to form attachments, but still Harold became the closest thing to family I had in twenty years.”
“Harold told me about how he met you, how much he loved you, that he wanted to marry you. I need to tell you this so that you know, Harold loved you; no, he still loves you very much. He wanted you to be under our protection when the time came.”
“But that time never came. Fischer was hurt, not killed, in that ferry explosion three years ago. He was afraid Elias had ordered a hit on him and didn’t care if the blast killed dozens of people in the process.”
“I found Fischer in an abandoned building, hurt badly and scared out of his mind. He was so afraid if they found out he had survived, that they would try again. Harold couldn’t risk your life, what they might do to you to get to him.”
“I got Harold to a hospital, his injuries were bad. Getting up and walking out of the triage that had been set up, compounded those injuries. He had to have spinal fusion surgery.”
“It took him months to learn how to walk again. Harold needed you. I begged him to let me bring you to him. It was no use. He had to protect you by being dead to you.”
“During those months, the justice department rescinded their offer, as Fischer could and would no longer work for Elias. I made a choice to quit the U.S. Marshall’s service. Harold was my family now. I had to protect him.”
“That is what I have been doing for the past three years, protecting him. With help from people in the justice department who believed like I did, that a promise is a promise, we assumed new identities.”
“Our aliases, John Richards and Harold Bunting, own and run a small security company together here in New York. Harold wouldn’t leave the city, he had to watch over you, and I watched over you both. ”
“I eventually found out Elias was arrested and convicted of manslaughter. He escaped from prison a few months ago and is in the wind. Harold is also no longer in danger as he had nothing to do with Elias’ conviction. Elias will never see the light of day again if he is ever caught, Harold’s death will not stop that.”
“We only discovered later Elias was not responsible for the explosion at the ferry. Fischer was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“With his life and your safety no longer at risk, I talked Harold into letting you know he was alive. I don’t think anything has changed in the past three years, you still do love him?”
“Am I right?”
Grace just sat there in stunned silence. She looked up at John and realized he was holding something back, waiting for her answer. “Of course I still love him. What aren’t you telling me? Why isn’t he here himself?”
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Reese arrived at the hospital as soon as they would allow him in Finch’s room. John believed that what he had planned was the right thing to do and if he had to spend the rest of his life just being Harold’s friend then he could do it.
John’s logic told him the best thing that he could do for himself would be to just cut all ties, yet his heart couldn’t let go completely. He could not just leave Harold. His heart was not logical. As painful as this situation was going to be, the alternative was worse. John had been killing himself slowly after losing Jess, until Finch saved him. If he completely lost Harold, though the man that had saved John no longer existed, Reese would have nothing to live for; with nothing left to hold on to he’d take the fast way out this time.
Everyone knew their roles. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, John went into Harold’s room.
~*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen