For Bear Part Five
Bear's Intervention
John reread the letter over and over.
If the CIA broke down the door right now, threw a black hood over his head and threw him in the deepest, darkest hole they could find, John felt that fate would be too good for him.
John had hurt Finch so badly with his words, thought Harold hated him so much because of them, that he had cut all ties with John. Now looking at this precious gift; and it was precious; in that wooden box were pieces of Harold’s past that he had shared with no one, ever; it made him realize how much Harold loved him still.
The guilt John was feeling painfully intensified at the understanding of how much he had misconstrued Harold’s actions the past three months.
Harold hadn’t ‘fired’ him out of anger, he’d freed John from his commitment to the numbers, given him means to live well off anywhere he would choose, with anyone he chose.
Harold hadn’t been evading him out of spite, it was what he thought John wanted, to be out of the man’s secretive paranoia filled life forever.
After he thought John had decided to stay, assisting the two detectives, Carter and Fusco, much to their annoyance at times, having to save his butt at others, cases were getting solved- mysterious evidence showing up, tips called in from concerned citizens. Now it made sense. Shaw had said Harold still watched over him, was protecting him, and helping him.
And now this.
John folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. He picked up the pocket watch and read the inscription on the back. ‘To Harold, my dearest husband, I’ll love you through eternity. Your little sparrow, Angela - March 17, 1958.’ Inside was a tiny, fading black and white photo of a man and woman holding their toddler between them, Harold and his parents?
John reached in and lifted the tray, on top was a picture of smiling boy of 8 or 9. He picked up the picture and on the back was written Harold, Sept. 23, 1964. John was reaching in to take out more of the contents, when he changed his mind. He didn’t deserve this. He carefully placed the aging picture back, the tray and jewelry next, then the watch in its nest and closed the lid.
John pulled his cell out called the Wren number, expecting to get voicemail, never in a million years did he expect to hear “Mr. Reese?” instead.
“John? Is everything alright? Is it Bear?” from the other end a few seconds later brought John out of his shocked stupor.
“Sorry, he seems to be okay now, Harold, but he is missing you already, he keeps listening at the door. Can you come again, soon?” ‘Harold, please say yes. I need to see you too,’ John silently pleaded.
“I have….an appointment….in the morning. Is one tomorrow afternoon okay?”
“Yes, yes fine, thank you. Do you want me here? I can get Leon to dog sit again?”
“No, no, that won’t be necessary…Mr. Reese…I need to see you, too.”
“I’ll be here….Harold….I lo…I’ll see you tomorrow.”
John picked up the box and put it on the shelf in the closet where his suits hung, grabbed a change of clothes and then went to shower.
Later trying to get to sleep, all John could do was toss and turn, running hundreds of different scenarios in his head what he could do to repair the damage his stupid outburst months ago had caused.
Bear sensing John’s distress, came over and laid his head down on the bed next to his hand. “What should I do boy? We need to get him back.” He stroked the dog’s head, thinking.
Morning sunlight filtered through the closed curtains finding John still sleepless and with no idea how to get Harold back. Throwing back the covers in frustration, John gave up trying to sleep, pulled on his running clothes and went for an early morning jog.
At 12:45 pm John paced worriedly around the apartment for the next fifteen minutes. John felt a huge surge a relief along with waves of nervousness, when at exactly 1 pm, Harold knocked at the loft’s door.
John didn’t know if he gave any outward indication as to the shock he felt when he saw Harold for the first time since John had walked out on him.
Harold was impeccably dressed, as always, the suit tailored to fit his small frame almost to perfection. Almost. But fine tailoring didn’t hide how much weight the man had lost. If someone could waste away into nothing, Harold was almost there.
“Hello, Mr. Reese.”
Harold gave John a tentative smile. One that did not reach his eyes. Eyes that were blank, seemingly devoid of any emotion. They were like the same empty eyes John had seen looking back at him from the mirror every day for months now.
John felt a stab in his heart hearing the formal address, outside of their professional relationship, he hadn’t been anything but John. But what could he expect, it was what he had asked for. Ending it all, even the familiarity of a first name.
Gathering himself, John moved aside, motioning Finch in.
“Please, go sit, before he knocks you down.”
Bear had trotted over as soon as he had heard Harold’s voice, was happily dancing around the man’s legs, his training just barely keeping the excited dog from jumping up in greeting.
John watched as Harold walked over to the small sofa, Bear happily heeling at his side. ‘If nothing else happens today, I’ve got to get Harold to take the dog with him when he leaves’, thought John sadly.
“Want anything?” John offered after Harold was seated.
“No, nothing. I can’t stay long. Thank you. Wait…” as John started to walk towards them, “I’d like some water, if you don’t mind, please?”
John made a turn and headed for the kitchen. This was not going well. Harold had abruptly changed his mind, asking John for water, to send him in another direction rather than be in close proximity to him.
It was as he expected, when returning with the bottle of Avian, Harold was already up and murmuring apologetic goodbyes to Bear.
“Leaving so soon, Harold? I thought you needed to see me?”
“I’m sorry, I need to go Mr. Reese. I will call you, make arrangements, so I can see Bear again. Maybe Leon can bring him to the dog park?”
John knew he should say something, anything to get Harold to stay, but he just said. “Fine. Thanks for coming by.” ‘Stupid, stupid, he’s walking out and you’re just letting him. What the fuck is wrong with you?’
Harold tried to make a step toward the door to leave, but before either man could stop the dog, Bear had bumped into his legs causing him to flop back down on the couch and was now sprawled across Harold’s lap.
When Harold tried to push the dog off his lap he quickly pulled his hands back hearing Bear’s soft growl. John ordered the dog off and when nothing happened reached out to physically move the dog and was warned off by a louder more threatening growl.
“You don’t think he’ll bite do you Mr. Reese?”
“I don’t know Harold, I am not chancing it; I guess we wait on him to move. And please, can you just call me John.”
“Okay….John. What do you propose we do while we wait?”
“How about we talk? I know you wanted to, or else Leon would be here, not me. So, talk to me now.”
‘I….I wanted to tell you face to face how sorry I am I couldn’t trust you Mr. Reese … John, when I should have. Instead of sharing something I’ve kept hidden my whole life with the first person I’ve ever truly trusted in it, I shut you out. I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”
“Harold, it’s not your fault. I had no right to push you. I know you trust me. I just did like I’ve done all my life. I sabotage every chance at happiness I get, first with Jess, now with you. You’re not telling me your name was just an excuse to run away again. I hope you can forgive me.”
John went over to the closet and pulled down the wooden box, and brought it back over to give back its owner.
“Here, I don’t deserve this.” John handed back the box, then knelt at Harold’s feet and surprisingly, Bear moved to the floor and lay down not too far away. “Harold, forgive me, please, for being such a bastard to you. If you’ll have me back I will do whatever it takes to make this up to you.”
“Oh John, John. Come here.”
Bear had made the rounds, sniffing out every inch of this new house. Taking a chance he now jumped up on the bed to lay at his owners’ feet.
He liked spending time with his friend, but it was good to be back with his masters again. They had returned, offering him many treats, even allowing him to lick their paws when they did. He didn’t much care for the taste of the shiny things each had on one toe, so he didn’t lick there again.
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Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
For Bear
Chapter Five