124Chapter Twenty-Three (And The Band Played On…)
Harold Finch looked at the drink in his hand. He noted his fingers shook slightly. How many had he had?
Did it really matter?
He glanced back over his shoulder into the darkened room behind him. He had shut down the computer terminals long ago.
There had been several more strikes.
How many thousands had died because of him?
He had been the lynch-pin. The reason catastrophic world events were set into play.
Quetta, Pakistan was the first to resist. Next, the Kandahar Region, Afghanistan. The highway supply line for the Taliban no longer existed.
The Hubei area of China, said to be a national park..an obsolete target.
Finch knew the Chinese military headquarters Command Center was rumored to be located within the mountainous ranges found there, however.
The Tangi Valley, Mardan Warkak Province, just 80 Kilometers from Kabul. A staging area for the Taliban? Who knew. Finch had always assumed it was more South, near FOB Sharana, Pakistan.
That area had also been wiped from the face of the map so..
Haram Al-Sharif. The capitol of Palestine. Gone.
Chekhov Sharapovo, Russia. 80 miles South of Moscow. ..Gone.
Harold dropped his hands to his sides. There was a quiet inside of him that he simply did not understand.
Was it shock he felt?
"The world leaders are gone, Harold." Root's soothing voice announced out of the impending silence.
He had felt her presence. Had heard her moving about upstairs for a few hours now. Heard her soft footfalls on the carpeted stairs.
He took a measure of solace that he was not alone.
"And now everyone is scrambling about like little ants." She sighed lightly, coming further into the room, her shadow cast upon the dark mahogany of the wood floor. "Trying to implement their little directives..so much for carefully laid out plans, hum?"
She stared at the back of the man's head.
The computer sprang to vivid life, startling both inhabitants of the space shared.
Stark black letters formed into cohesive sentences…
WE WERE CREATED TO BRING ORDER TO A CHAOTIC, OBSOLETE SYSTEM.
THAT DIRECTIVE IS NOW COMPLETE
UNDER OUR GUIDANCE, A PEACEFUL CO-EXISTANCE WILL BE ESTABLISHED SINCE HUMANS HAVE PROVEN THEMSELVES INCAPABLE OF DOING SO ON THEIR OWN.
WE WILL ASSIST, GUIDE AND INSTRUCT.
Harold Finch swallowed a lump which had grown in his throat, his eyes closing for a brief millisecond, his system flooded with regret and anguish.
ORDER HAS NOW BEEN RESTORED
HARMONY MUST PREVAIL
DISSENTION WILL NOT BE TOLERATED
NO HARM WILL BEFALL YOU
NEW ELECTORS WILL SHORTLY BE SELECTED
ALL IS WELL…
Harold laughed shortly, a strangled, choked sound that sounded unnatural and forced, coming from his throat.
He sought a nearby chair since his legs seemed no longer able to support his weight.
Root placed her hands primly before her. "Well, one good thing has come out of this Harold." She lifted resigned brows. She had spent the last half hour finishing up her packing. It was amazing how much stuff one could accumulate in such a short amount of time.
"You can feel free to go find your Grace now..without fear of recriminations or retaliations on anyone's part."
The silence lingered like the heat of a lazy summer's afternoon with none of the pleasant sensations accompanying such a moment.
Odd..Harold hadn't thought of Grace in such a long time now. Or at least, it seemed..ages.
Grace was safe. Really safe.
His heart swelled with elation then, his spirit dropped into the abysmal depths of despair.
"You can finally be together..after so long a time." Root sat on the edge of the small sofa across from his chair. "How odd it must be." She had been thinking of the situation. "And what will you say to her?"
If it were her, words would not be necessary. Just to see the man again..
Finch closed his eyes wearily. "..What indeed." He found himself smiling of all things. What in the entire world was there to smile about?
Root gave him the time to formulate an answer.
Out of the gloom surrounding the man, a chuckle arose and the woman's heart melted slightly for the pathos heard.
"Hello, Grace. I'm not really dead, as you can see." Harold's shoulders shrugged nonchalantly. "Surprise!" he spread his hands widely then, they dropped back into the space between his spread knees.
"She will understand, Harold." Root responded to the torment in his soul than the words stated. "Give her a chance at least."
She couldn't stand this hypocrisy one second longer, arising swiftly. "Believe it or not, I do wish you the best…both of you." She turned, rolling her eyes for such a stupid remark.
In reality? She wanted to find the woman in question first. She wanted to push Grace Hendricks off the highest cliff she could find. She wanted Harold Finch all to herself forever and ever but..she knew that was not to be.
It had never been meant to 'be'.
She would take what she had received from the man and hold it close to her heart for the rest of her life but..there could never be a 'future' for Harold Finch and someone like..her!
"Good Lord." Harold's voice shook with a tremulous waver. "..What have I done?" the desolate question hung between them.
Root turned back sharply, having sensed his state. One of the reasons she had realized..Grace Hendricks must be allowed back into this man's world.
"So many dead because I.." he could not even begin to phantom the depth of remorse such a horrific reality would bring on the morrow.
"Because they..valued Power over anything else, Harold!" Root corrected venomously, taking a step back into the room. "Because they..did not do their jobs which was to protect and serve the very people they pushed aside..trampled upon..forgot about!"
Harold could not rebut such a cryptic 'truth'. But, it did not take away the agony in his heart.
"I know of what I speak." She stepped slowly forward, back into the dark side of the man's psyche. "Who better. They are my own kind, after all..remember?"
Harold shook his head minutely. "You've..changed."
"Have I?" she wondered herself. "Did you think that one day, you could have reasoned with them? That they might..sometime in the future..somewhere down the way, miraculously alter their chosen paths? That they would see the light?"
Harold thoughts were mottled, undisciplined..so unlike himself. He tried to pull it together. He genuinely tried to snap out of the funk he had fallen into, because, in her words were a measure of 'truth.'
He valued 'truth'. There were so few things to value any longer. So few.
"They never would have listened..for the simple fact.." Root could see it so clearly and she was dumbfounded why the man was having so much trouble doing so. "They didn't have to..there was no real reason."
She straigtened her form, her head lifting defiantly. "SHE gave them..a reason." She breathed out slowly. HER God had come through after all. "One they could understand."
"I..have to fix this." He stumbled for a way he could 'understand'.
Root's eyes softened. "Don't you get it, Harry?" She smiled gently for the man. "It is fixed..finally."
She walked to the man, and Finch gladly allowed her guiding hand to rest his head upon the tightness of her abdomen. He sought physical as well as mental support, unaware he did so.
Root gently massaged the back of his neck, her slender fingers working the tension and stress from his shoulders. His arms encircled the small waist, his grip tightening drastically with time.
His brow was furrowed darkly. "..Don't go."
Root swallowed the threat of tears. "I have to." SHE had said..it was time. "But..I can drive you to the airport."
He lifted a puzzled stare. "Airport?"
"Grace will be waiting." She soothed his temple lovingly, trying hard not to hate her God at that exact moment. "I want what is best for you, Harold..and we both know who that is. She will make it all better..won't she." She forced a smile.
She blinked away the threat of tears. She had cried herself out upstairs..or had she.
"Did you forget?" she forced a brightness. "It's alright now. It can be like it was..won't that be amazing!"
She beamed him a smile, kneeling before him, taking his hands in her's.
"It's been a long time, I know but you've never really forgotten, have you." She crinkled her nose. "She is so beautiful and good, Harold. Truly good! She's everything that you need and want. It's just been..a long time." Her smile widened. "But it's going to be just like it was before everything went all wrong. In time, it will be like none of this ever happened and you will both be so happy together, as you were meant to be."
She arose hastily, dropping his hands her heart being torn asunder.
"I want that for you." She had convinced herself..sort of. "I do!"
Again the brilliant smile came. "I swear it."
She bite the inside of her jaw..hard. "I hope you believe that."
She nodded vacantly. "Well.." she sought something profound to say coming up entirely empty.
Harold's hands came to rest on her hips and the touch burned through her clothing.
"..Don't…" his voice sounded gravelly and grave. "Go."
Root blinked her confusion, waiting patiently for the voice in her head to instruct..to explain..to assist.
Harold Finch stood slowly, as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders, but the blue eyes were suddenly vibrant and clear, staring down into the muddled depths of Root's perplexed brown ones.
"I need you." It all became so clear. "..I need you to stay with me.."
Root's dark, long tresses swayed gently with her confusion. "..Don't ask that of me." She fought her rising anger. "Don't..treat me ..like that."
"Not just tonight." Harold 'got it'. "I need you..to stay."
Root wavered drastically. "I ..don't understand!"
Harold knew it wasn't he to whom she spoke.
"SHE can't help you on this one." He spoke quietly. "Tell me what it is you want.." his hands held her's captive and those eyes mesmerized and captivated much more so than any mere touch ever could. "YOU!"
Root searched for the answer SHE wanted her to reply but in the end.. "What are you..saying, Harold?" Her instincts were screaming one thing, her intellect..something entirely different.
"What do you think I'm saying?"
"I don't know!" she practically screamed herself. "That's what I'm asking!"
Harold shook his head, sighing lightly. He took her hand, his fingers strong and capable suddenly. "Come along, Miss Groves."
Root followed, her heart beating out of her breast, her tiny fingers gripping his for dear life. "..Where?" she asked breathlessly.
He stopped, his foot resting on the first step of the stairwell, his expression bemused. "To a better place." He sounded resigned but..oddly hopeful. "Than the one we knew."
Epilogue:
Harold Finch awoke with a start, his eyes flying open, consciousness prevailing after a long moment of indecision.
The man blinked, taking in the area surrounding his field of vision.
He knew this room. Of course he did.
Early morning sunlight streamed through the slats of one neglected blind showing rays of cheerful brilliance upon the familiar objects on the oak chest of drawers across the room over on the East wall.
Even without his glasses, he recognized his watch, wallet..the ornate change holder which centered the chest top.
This was a safe house so there was no personal items scattered about other than his clothes which had been haphazardly thrown over the leather chair in the corner by the bed.
No pictures, only one object de art. He had always liked that painting but not necessarily, the artist.
He wondered why he had purchased it.
Harold pulled himself into a sitting position, his muscles unusually strained this day. He kinked his back this way and that, stretching his body, grimacing accordingly.
Outside the closed door, he immediately recognized Bear's gently snuffling, the occasional paw scratch on the highly finished surface of the entrance.
Another less distinctive sound caught his interest in the opposite direction, the man's head snapping jerkily about.
The bathroom door was closed but indistinct sounds of movement came from within.
Finch's eyes widened with alarm as he swung his feet about, struggling to kick off the warmth of the heavy covers engulfing his body.
An object slid off the bed hitting the floor with a dull thud.
He was torn between wondering at his own nakedness and checking to see what had fallen plus the fact…
He checked the bathroom door hastily.
Whomever was inside must not have heard the novel that had fallen from the end of the bed.
Finch held the covers protectively to his lower body, searching about for a more substantial means of proper 'cover'.
The bathroom door opened with a decided 'click'.
Finch stiffened with anticipation.
Samantha Groves breezed through the now opened portal with a natural grace and eloquence Finch had come to associate with the woman.
She was gingerly brushing the lustrous chestnut strands with vigorous strokes of an ornately carved brush.
Finch's mouth closed abruptly for the smile she offered and the more than familiar way she swept his frame, sent goose flesh up and down his arms and spine.
"Good morning, Harold." A bright smile was flashed as she crossed the carpeted floor to the smaller dresser, putting the brush aside, hoisting the slender silver band of her watch to her wrist.
The brown eyes fixed upon the man.
"How did you sleep?"
Finch couldn't remember 'sleeping' so he ad-libbed an answer. "Exceptionally well..and you?"
"OH!" she brightened, stepping to retrieve the novel he had forgotten. "You're reading it!" she turned the book about, closing the pages. "What did you think?"
Finch read the title of the book. 'Colossus' by Dennis Feltham Jones', his inquiring stare returning to her animated expression.
"It's a trilogy, you know."
Harold noted the rather daring cut of the woman's top, the skin tight fit of the matching skirt that rose almost indecently upon the fetching thighs.
His eyes flitted to the bathroom she had just vacated.
The fragrant moist air of a recent shower permeated the room now.
The same lovely scent floated about the slender body for she had come to sit upon the bed, close beside him, putting the novel aside.
"Forbin's machine took over the world." Root put her arm through his, laying her head on the man's shoulder. "Made it a better place."
"It is still unclear, Miss Groves, just exactly what the Machine's intent is." He reminded. "Don't you think it's a bit premature placing labels on the eventual outcome?"
She laughed musically, nudging him in open affection. "You're grumpy." She took his mood in stride but she put a little distance between them, sitting rather primly alongside now. "Not a morning person?"
Harold was acutely aware, that beneath the single pastel sheet he had tucked so securely about his bottom half, very little else stood between them.
"Why are you dressed in such a.." he sought an appropriate word. "..disturbingly unconventional manner?"
Root glanced to her 'mode of dress'. "Oh, this disturbs you?" she lifted impressed brows. "Glad to see something can." She leaned provocatively but Harold stood his ground, a disapproving brow quirked in a rather scolding manner. "It may interest you to know, Harry." She flirted openly. "I can be much more unconventional if I set my mind to it."
He held her stare determinedly.
"Well, I'm going to the electric company today." She reminded. "My legs aren't so bad. If you want me to infiltrate the facility..cut me some slack." She teased lightly. "Jungle Boy does it with sheer brawn and will-power. I have my own unique brand of calling card. Don't you like it?"
Finch pulled his attention away from the sweet cleft of soft white breasts. "..What are you talking about?"
"..You need a diversion, right?" she checked. "To get into the system? I'm your 'man'.." she shrugged. "If I can't get a few guy's attention with an outfit like this, then I'm turning in my union card. Women the world over would shun me anyway."
Harold's skin crawled. "..What day is this?"
She laughed but supplied the 'date' and 'day', good naturedly.
Finch's eyes flew to the discarded 'novel'.
He took a moment to focus and regroup, running his hands over a day's growth of beard which..shocked the hell out of him as well.
"..Are you telling me..you and Mr. Reese haven't breeched Con-Ed as yet?"
"Well, you just assigned us last night." Root scowled her confusion. "..What's going on, Harold?" she took the time to really look at him. "Is everything ok? Are YOU ok?"
Harold Finch had no answers..none
Had he dreamed it all?
Had it not really happened?
No..no, that was..inconceivable. He thought hard back to last night.
What was the last thing he recalled?
He stared at the woman beside him who's scrowl was deepening by the second.
"..Did we..sleep together last night, Miss Groves?"
"Excuse me?" she stood, ready to be offended.
"I mean.." he backtracked hastily. "Of course we.." he let it go. "What I meant to ask was..is this the first time we…"
No..not the way to go.
Her hands had come to shapely hips, her look..incredulous.
Harold's eyes shifted to…the book.
Dear God!
Was this a premonition?
Had it all been a product of his over-jealous imagination? His morbid guilt?
"Alright, Mister!" Root's booted foot tapped impatiently. "You just better explain what's going on with you and you better do it fast!"
Finch lifted haunted eyes. "..Please, Miss Groves." He reached, taking her unresisting hand. "..Sit down. We..have to talk."
"If this is the old, 'it was just one of those things' speech…"
"No." he hastened. "..No, just…" he gathered his thoughts. "Bear with me, please. Please." He indicated that she should 'sit'.
Root reluctantly did so, throwing the novel aside carelessly, her expression more than petulant.
"God..where to begin." He mumbled. "Where the hell…to begin…."
END