Title: Haunted

Author: wildwordwomyn

Word Count: 539

Fandom/Pairing: Person of Interest fanfic starring John Reese/Harold Finch, Bear

Rating: R for the angst

Author's Notes: Slash. Romance. Emotional hurt/comfort. Minor character death.

Disclaimers/Warnings: General spoilers for the series. Not beta'ed. (I probably didn't get John and Jessica's goodbye scene right so I'll just apologize for that now.)Non-graphic abuse of a child/death of said child. It's a minor mention but please read no further if this could be triggerish.

Summary: John and Harold are hurting...

After a particularly hard number it doesn't take much to convince Finch to have dinner with him. John, especially skilled at persuasion, didn't even need to ask this time. He just raised an eyebrow and said, "Give me an hour," and that was it. They sit at John's dining room table eating spinach and ricotta stuffed ravioli and asparagus tips covered in a creamy white sauce in silence. The food is delicious, and Finch tells him so. More than once. But his eyes are haunted, his face shadowed.

...August Templeton. 546-28-9236. Today would've been his sixth birthday if they'd gotten to him in time...

"Care for a drink, Finch?" John asks, already pouring a dry, crisp Chardonnay into two wine glasses. He wonders if Finch will approve, then considers whether or not it matters. The older man sticks his hand out in either case.

Bear whuffs out a question from his bed by the coat closet, eyeing the pots and plates on the table eagerly. One sharp head shake shuts him up quickly, though. As Bear quiets the two men move slowly to the living space, sitting on opposite ends of the black leather sofa with a sigh. John automatically takes the side easiest for Finch to turn to, accommodating his companion, thinking.

What do you give a man who has everything? Because he wants to, needs to, give him whatever will take the pain away. Especially on a day like today when their combined strength still was no match against a determined mother suffering from Münchausen syndrome by proxy. John feels rage, guilt, sadness, so he knows Finch feels it twice as much. How can he not when, unlike John, he's retained much of his innocence, his goodness?

"The last time I saw her was in an airport," John says suddenly. It's as good a place to begin as any. "She was seeing me off, saying goodbye, but right before I got to the security check point she stopped me." John doesn't look over at Finch as he speaks. He can't. But the man is listening as always. When he continues his voice drops an octave. "She said if I asked her to wait for me she would. All I had to do was say the words and she'd be there when I came back."

"John," Finch responds softly, "you don't have-."

"I didn't. Not until she'd turned her back. She wouldn't have liked what I was when I returned." At this his head finally swivels. "I never understood why she'd want to wait in the first place."

He reaches over to take Finch's hand, pressing its warmth into the cushion between them. The thought that he does now hangs in the air unvoiced. It's possible Finch will decline. He's a smart man, John reasons. Bright and beautiful and better than he could ever be. And yet he can't help sucking in a breath as Finch replies with, "Love is a precious gift. One definitely worth waiting for..."

John squeezes his hand tenderly, carefully. Thankful, smiling.

"Yes," he sighs in agreement. In surrender. Because no other words are needed. Finch understands. And Jessica? He's pretty sure she does too when Finch smiles back.

The End