Work Text:
John Reese stumbled down the staircase, blood spilling out from his multiple wounds. He had been in this situation before back when Evans shot him. His loyal friend was just a quick drive away, not too far. John found himself wishing it could be like the first time.
"Hey, Fin.. Finch." John said out loud, knowing Harold Finch could hear him. There was a smile on his face as he stumbled.
"John, I can make it just hold on." Harold told him.
John smiled at the familiar ring of the sentence and felt a bit of sadness in the pit of his stomach.
"Not this time, Harold. You're just too.. far away.. this time."
Harold knew his friend was right and dropped his coat to the floor. For the first time in a long time, Harold Finch felt defeat as he fell back to his chair. There was much confusion on how to act about on this part and found himself fighting back tears and trying to smile for some reason he couldn't understand. He just didn't want this to be the end.
"We.. we still have so much to do.." was all the older man could say.
"I-I know.." was all the younger man could say. "You can.. hang up, you know. You don't have to.."
"I'll always be here, John. I've.. told you this before."
There was a pause of silence long enough to make Harold worry. The sound of a big shuffle told him John fell.
"I'm scared.. I-I honestly don't want to die.." John finally said. "Harold, I just.."
"I know.. I know, John." Harold said as soothing as he could with a very shaky voice. "You're tired now. Get some rest."
There were real tears streaming down his face. Why does everyone around him, everyone he cares for, leave him?
"I had.. a real great.. time. Thank you, Harold."
"Thank you, John."