Title: Desperation
Author: Bj Jones
Rating: Nc-17
Summary: In the end desperation won out.
Author’s Note: I’ll be honest – I haven’t watched Season 5. When I read what The Machine showed Harold about John, this story just came out. So it kinda follows Season 5 – at least from what I know – up to 512 (which I’m pretty sure is the episode that moment took place) … that last episode didn’t happen.
***
The three of them were quiet as they headed into the subway.
They couldn’t believe it was finished.
Samaritan was destroyed.
And with it, The Machine.
John glanced down at Harold, who looked like a man in utter shock that he’d actually survived it all. He had always said they wouldn’t make it out of things alive, but it would seem Fate had other plans.
For all of them.
The sound of Bear’s claws scrambling on the concrete pulled all three of their attentions to the happy, wiggling dog. None of them had the heart to make him settle. John was pretty sure, all of them had thought they would never see him again.
Harold smiled, cringing slightly as he bent down to give the dog a scratch, and he smiled gratefully up at John when he took his arm and helped him stand straight again.
Bear pushed into his legs demanding pets from the former Agent. John couldn’t help but chuckle at the over excited animal. He squatted down, giving him a good rub, trying to avoid that long, licking tongue, until finally, with a laugh, he stood and shoved the dog toward Shaw.
He knew she adored Bear, probably more than she ever connected with most humans, and she fell to her knees, opening her arms to take the brunt of the dog’s welcome home.
It was the first smile John had seen on her face over the past few days.
He knew, like the rest of them, that they would be mourning the loss of Root and The Machine for some time. In a way, it was like losing her twice. But he’d make sure to keep a keen eye on both of his companions.
They’d all be mourning.
John ran a hand over his face, wondering when he’d actually became the mentally stable one in the group.
Oh, wait! That was rightly Fusco.
At least they’d spared him the brunt of it, taking on the last of Samaritan’s forces by themselves.
Lionel had a son, and John would do everything in his power to make sure the men went home to Lee. He couldn’t save Carter, but he sure as hell could make sure Fusco made it through their shared nightmare.
“Mr. Reese?”
John broke out of his thoughts and looked over at Harold. “Finch?”
“You have to promise me, you will never leave.”
“I’m not the one who ran off without me,” he pointed out, some of the dark anger and desperation he had felt at that moment, coming out through his voice. “Running off to die heroically is my job, Finch, not yours.”
“I was doing what I felt was right.”
John snorted, before turning toward the subway car. “And what do you think would’ve happened if you had died?” He turned back around to look at him. “You think I would’ve survived that?”
“Well, this is going to get emotionally awkward fast.” Shaw stood up, one hand on Bear’s head. “I’m taking the dog and leaving.”
“Ms. Shaw.” Harold glanced over at her. “I…”
“Harold.” She gave him a sad smile. “Call me if you need someone shot.” She headed for the stairs and paused at the threshold. “For what it’s worth, I get it. All of it. But if you do that again, I’ll hit you and toss you in safe place for your own good.”
“Now that’s an idea,” Reese added, as she ran for the hills.
“John.”
“Harold.” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t ever leave me behind like that. We’re in this together.” John sighed deeply, feeling bone tired. “Don’t you get it, even now? I wouldn’t have lived past three months if you hadn’t saved…”
He grunted when his back hit the metal of the subway car. “Finch…” His mouth was covered by Harold’s desperate kiss.
He felt hands gripping at his clothes, pulling him down, and with a moan he opened his mouth to the insistent tongue pressing into his lips, taking the kiss deeper as the taste and smell of Harold filled his senses.
Somehow the sliding door opened, as he was pushed into the car and fell onto the padded bench. In seconds he had Harold in his lap, straddling his waist.
His shirt was ripped open, and there were hands, greedy and frantic against his skin.
“Don’t leave me,” Harold muttered, grinding against him. “I can’t… Just don’t… Please…”
“I’m here.” John tried to grab his hands and calm him, but Harold wasn’t having it. He pulled at John’s pants, releasing his hardening cock.
John moaned as deft fingers wrapped around him, stroking him in fierce desire. His head fell back against the metal wall, as he gave into the sensations.
It was everything he had wanted and dreamed of, but never thought he would have. It was his job to protect, to love, to die for Harold.
He wasn’t supposed to get it all back in return.
When he realized Harold had shed his own pants, instincts to protect kicked back in. “Finch…” He wrapped his hands around the slimmer hips of his boss, holding him still.
But Finch growled in frustration and looked at the man he wanted, needed. He ached so badly, desperate to feel every inch of him. “Please…”
“I won’t let you hurt yourself.” John shook his head, part of his brain screaming at him to just go with it, but he refused to bring any more avoidable pain to the man he loved.
“I don’t care.” Harold wiggled away from John, enough to get on his knees and position himself over the thick, hard cock he had worked to full erection.
With some spit and leaking pre-cum, he slicked John up and slid down him in one move.
Shouts were ripped from both their throats.
Harold’s forehead landed on John’s shoulder, as he took several shuddering breaths to control himself with, then he licked along John’s neck, across that familiar square jaw, and took his mouth in a passionate kiss. The desperation wouldn’t leave. It simply built, stoked higher and higher as they connected.
Harold moaned in need as John opened up to him, giving himself over.
Trusting him with everything, including his own body.
Until finally the urge to move became too much, and Harold began rising and falling steadily, taking him further into his body.
He felt John’s hand clutch him tightly, taking control of his movements, even as he gasped into that hot, wet mouth, holding his lover’s cheeks, staring into his eyes.
Finally his hips stilled as John thrust up into him, finding that one spot perfectly, and hitting it repeatedly.
In time they both were lost in each other, reaching for completion.
Harold sat up a little, changing the angle, when he felt John’s hand around his aching cock. With a pained groaned, he thrust into the tight warmth and came breathlessly, watching in awe as John chest muscles strained, his body seeking completion until he could let go of everything.
Harold ran his hands over the strongly defined form, his fingers sliding up that firm neck and across John’s face.
He kissed his cheeks and lips softly. “I love you,” he whispered, admitting it out loud for the first time.
John pulled him close, kissing him back with everything he had. “I never thought I would have this.” He continued kissing him, not daring break that moment. “Don’t leave me, Harold. Not like that. I would rather die by your side than contemplate life without you.”
“Please don’t say that,” he begged, laying his head on John’s shoulder. After such intense desperation had subsided, the aches and pains of the day were settling in. Not that Harold cared too much. Those extra bruises and burnig soreness were worth it.
“But it’s true.” John held him tighter. “I’ve loved you all these years…”
“She showed me,” Harold whispered. “The Machine. She showed me what life would’ve been like if I hadn’t built it, her.” John listened intently. “You were dead, Reese. A pauper’s grave. No name. Only a date. Three months after I would’ve hired you.” He shook his head, tears falling again.
There wasn’t much John could say. He couldn’t deny it. He would’ve been dead if Harold hadn’t found him. Even if The Machine never existed, and Ordos didn’t happen, the moment he lost Jessica he had given up. Harold was the one who gave him purpose again.
Gave him reason to be.
“You saved me.” He kissed the top of his lover’s head. “My life is yours. It always has been.”
Harold held him tighter. “Then I get to choose that you live.”
“Only if you do too. Promise me that.”
“I promise.” Harold sat back, wincing as pain shot down his spine.
John growled lightly, not liking that he was hurting too much to even bother hiding it, and though it was struggle for them both, he eased Harold off his lap, pulled up his pants and made sure he looked presentable. Even if it was just to move them to a more secure location, so he could get Harold cleaned up and dosed with pain killers.
John made sure his own clothes were secure before he stood up too. “Let’s get you…”
They both turned simultaneously when the computer suddenly started booting into life.
Mouths open, they watched as The Machine’s systems came online one at a time.
Harold moved to the desk, like a man in a trance, not quite sure what was going on. He had shut everything down before going finish it all. But…
A black box appeared on the monitor.
‘Locating Admin’
Harold slumped into the chair, eyes wide, gaping like a landed fish.
The camera light came on, focusing on his face.
‘Admin Found’
‘Reboot Complete’
‘Awaiting Instruction’
‘Day 1’
“Does that mean she survived?” John asked, looking at Harold for some explanation.
“It’s returned to core programing…” He began typing quickly, digging into the systems to find out what was going on.
“You taught The Machine to defend itself.” John patted his shoulder, then kissed the top of his head, knowing he wasn’t getting him out of the subway any time soon. “She’s a scrapper, like her father.”
“What does this mean?” Harold leaned into his touch.
“It means we still have a purpose.”