Reincarnation Part Twelve
The End?
Harold lay there in the hospital bed, looking around, slightly confused. This was his first moment of consciousness with any clarity since Hersh had pointed a gun at him and fired, the pain exploding in his chest, Shaw kneeling beside him and then nothing.
Dawn was just beginning to break outside the hospital window. Yes he was in a hospital, as he could hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, the tick-ticking of an IV machine near his head and the far off voice over an intercom paging someone to radiology.
Finch turned his head slightly to look at the man at his bedside. There was John Reese sleeping uncomfortably in a wingback chair that he probably had procured from a waiting room somewhere, brought to Finch’s room and pulled close to Harold’s bedside.
John slept holding Harold’s left hand firmly in his right. Harold was vaguely aware of, ‘was it days?’, that he’d drifted in and out of consciousness. He wasn’t quite clear on anything that happened during them, except he felt John would almost always be there holding his hand.
Reese would let go and leave the room only long enough to let a nurse check his vitals or change IV’s or when one of the doctors came in to examine him. Harold didn’t recall much of that, drifting away before they would finish their tasks, those people only spectral images in a drug induced haze. He wasn’t sure if he was coming around again in minutes or maybe it was hours later. It was always to a swimming image of Reese in the room once again sitting next to him; however, the grasp of John’s hand was strong around his own.
Harold smiled slightly behind the oxygen mask he now felt covering his nose and mouth. John was here, with him, awareness that something vital that he had been missing within himself was now returned. Peace and a sense of wholeness washed over him in waves. Only that euphoria was short lived when it was replaced by the hurtful remembrance of why Reese had gone away.
Voices were jumbled in his head. ”It’s not easy, the agony is intense while you return to your body. Then there is the physical damage that was done to it. You’ll have that; the healing may never be complete…. Is John worth it?”... “Yes.”... “I know he’s hurt you. But John’s lost his way again. You gave him a reason to live once. John needs that again”…. “John needs you, Harold, it’s always been you.”...”There’s nothing I want more. It’s just...it’s not what you want. I won’t let you settle. You need to at least tell John how you feel. Tell him. He knows you would never lie to him.”
Harold had been somewhere with Jessica, and Nathan, and even Carter, a place peaceful and free of suffering. Jessica had told Finch that he wouldn’t remember, but he did. Harold had watched from somewhere as John turned off the machines keeping his body alive but Finch had already made his choice. Harold remembered closing his eyes and willing himself to return. Being with John again helped him fight the waves and waves of excruciating agony. Then it all stopped. For a brief moment Harold had heard a doctor shouting out something and John’s crying out, then he had opened his eyes to John’s beautiful face. “John?” Finch remembered, he’d come back here, for John.
The sobbed “John?” that escaped from Harold now, was wrenched out because of the ache he felt in his heart and the increasing physical discomfort. Instantly Reese was awake and leaning over him.
John carefully removed the oxygen mask from Finch’s face. “John?” Harold rasped out again, his throat sore and his mouth dry.
“Shhh, now. I’m here. Don’t try and talk”, John soothed Harold with a soft voice, his hand now gently caressing Harold’s forehead and smoothing back his hair.
“You were intubated, that’s why your throat’s sore.” the answer to the unspoken question when Harold put a hand to his throat. “Here, just a few sips, it’ll help.” John held a straw in an ice water filled hospital-logo-ed plastic tumbler to Finch’s lips.
When Reese saw Harold wincing, he reached over and adjusted an I.V. drip line. “It’s for the pain, Harold, it’s okay, I’m allowed.” John smiled briefly and conspiratorially down at him.
John sat back down in the chair, took up Harold’s hand once again, looked down and watched as he stroked his own thumb over the back of Harold’s hand. Tears began rolling down his cheeks before he looked up at Harold’s face.
“I’m so sorry Finch, I made some horrible mistakes. I mistook a deep friendship for love. I abandoned the only person I have ever truly loved and it almost cost you your life. I’m going to make it up to you. Please try to forgive me.” After John sobbed out those last pleading words, he dropped the hand he’d been holding, fisted the gown covering Finch’s chest, laid his head there and wept.
‘I already have, John. I already have’ Harold thought, his hand soothing over one of John’s shoulder wracking from his sobs. The strokes began to falter as Reese calmed. “I love you, John.” Harold breathed out as the drugs pulled him under again.
John looked up; relief washing over him to see Harold had only fallen asleep. Hearing those whispered words, the sorrow and despair he’d felt for weeks was replaced now by hope and a sense of peace. John raised himself up to kiss Harold softly, and whispered, “I love you too.”
~~~~~*~~~~~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue