Second Chances Chapter Twelve
Harold Meets the Man in His Dream
Harold could not believe the man of his literal dreams was really there. He did not understand it; he couldn’t even remember the handsome stranger now standing beside the bed. Without his memory, Harold’s initial reaction was as if he were meeting John for the very first time. Yet, there was an overwhelming sense that he had known the dark haired man forever.
Also for the first time since Harold regained consciousness days ago, hurting and confused, Harold felt safe and protected. John was standing there in the flesh and it soothed him somehow. He couldn’t understand why but the other man’s mere presence made Harold even more confident that he could deal with everything he was now going through.
Maybe it was the way John was watching him now. It was like Harold mattered, like those penetrating eyes saw the man in the bed not the injuries. It was not like how the medical staff observed him, seeing a hurt, disfigured body. They tried to hide it, the pity and the split second of revulsion, behind their mask of professionalism. But not this man, John studied him now unflinching, caring and concern the only things Harold could see written on his face.
“Hello, John. It is nice to meet you, although I have been told you already know me, and I you.” Harold reached out to take John’s hand.
John shook the hand held out to him briefly before abruptly letting go. Harold had felt it, that spark of… something; the other man had felt it too. John dropped his hand next to his side like it was nothing but Harold still noticed his reaction. Also for the briefest moment pain filled those blue eyes before John turned his head away momentarily. Was John hurting because he also had injuries from the car crash? Or was there something between them that caused his anguish?
“Well. They tell me that you can help me out. I seem to have forgotten a few years of my life. Like all of them,” Harold laughed weakly.
John used all of his CIA training to begin telling Finch of the false life they had together and not trip up in the details. Harold’s memory might be gone but John was sure Finch’s mind was still like a steel trap.
“Mind if I take a seat? This may take a while.” John then pulled a chair next to Harold’s bed.
“We met eight years ago. I was working for the justice department. I was the U.S. marshal assigned to protect you. You came to us offering your help in assisting the department to gather evidence against a notorious crime lord named Carl Elias. In return, the department offered you witness protection if we gathered enough evidence to get a conviction.”
“For five years we worked together, but Elias was always one step ahead of us. As soon as we thought we had something solid on him, things and people disappeared, evidence was tampered with making it inadmissible.”’
“Then three years ago we thought Elias targeted you as the mole and put a hit out on you. There was an explosion at the ferry. You were hurt and almost died.”
Harold interrupted, “Wait, three years ago? Is that when I had to have the fusion surgery?”
John nodded affirmatively. “Unfortunately you were no longer able to work in Elias’ organization. Since you were no longer any help, the department rescinded their offer. No new name, no new life, no protection.”
“I thought they were wrong to do that, so I resigned. Not only because it was wrong, but in the five years we worked together, we became friends, more than friends; you were like family to me. I had to protect you, to protect my family.”
“So we assumed new identities, burned our old ones, and spent the last three years building a small but successful security and investigations company.”
“I also kept in contact with some people at the justice department. Elias wasn’t responsible for the explosion at the ferry. Some of Elias’ other men turned on him; Elias was convicted from their testimonies. After questioning of one of these men, one of his lieutenants, my contact found out Elias never suspected you. Elias escaped and is in hiding somewhere. He has no reason to have you killed, that would not keep him out of prison for the rest of his life if he is ever captured again. ”
Harold listened as the other man told him about the last eight years of their life. Harold was positive now he and John were involved somehow. He had felt something for the John in his dreams even before the flesh and bone man came into the room, shook his hand and sat down next to him.
Harold was expecting John to tell him they were more than business partners and friends. John had said Harold was his family, maybe they were married even, and it was legal in New York, he knew that. To say he was confused and shocked at John’s next words was an understatement.
“You see for three years you not only lived under an assumed name, you let your fiance believe you were dead to protect her. When I found out you were safe from Elias and that you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I convinced you to go to her. We were on the way there when our Towncar was struck from behind by another car driven by a drunk driver.”
“When I was released, I went to her and explained everything. She was shocked and upset to know you were still alive. She is still hurt and confused but understands why you did what you did. She wants to help you.”
“Her name is Grace and she’s waiting outside to see you. You need her Harold and she needs you. I’ll get her now, if that’s okay.”
Harold didn’t know what to say. John somehow mistook his shocked silence for a yes and left the room.
Although Harold was still adjusting to seeing through one eye, he knew he had not mistaken more pain flickering across John’s face, especially when he told Harold he needed this Grace.
Could he have been so wrong about them, about himself? Harold didn’t think so. But trusting John felt so right and if John told him that he loved this woman…
~*~
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