Chapter Text
*Reincarnation*
Harold Finch had read a lot about reincarnation, the belief that the soul, upon death of the body, comes back to earth in another body or form or that reincarnation was the rebirth of the soul in a new body.
Being a man of science, Harold had certainly had his doubts; nothing was ever proven definitively to his satisfaction that reincarnation in any way could happen. That is until he’d briefly regained consciousness in an ICU-ward, the bed he was in surrounded by silent life support machines and sitting next to it a quietly weeping John Reese.
Reincarnation- the soul learning from a prior life and reborn into the new one having the chance to do things better, different than they had in their existence on earth before-or can one die and chose be reborn and continue on the same journey as before, to finish things left undone?
~*~*~*~
Harold alternately looked from Shaw, helpless to do anything with a gun pointed at her head and the woman holding a gun on him, the fake Diane Claypoole, now known to them as Control.
How could he have not recognized the woman before this moment? She looked older and her hair was different from eleven years ago, but it was her — Angela Moser. Harold had seen her once up close in a video feed he’d set up for one of the first meetings between Nathan and the NSA committee. It was the one where they’d given Nathan the go ahead to build The Machine.
Moser was some kind of intermediary between the White House and the National Security Association. Her post, if Harold could remember, was officially NSA Liaison to the White House in regards to the Freedom of Information Act. This amounted to monitoring requests for information by common US citizens that might uncover the project while keeping the cabinet members including the President in the dark regarding Northern Lights.
Ingram had received the go ahead to build Northern Lights. Nathan was the front man and apparent creator while Harold did the actual programming and building of The Machine, all the while staying hidden in Ingram’s shadow. Moser hadn’t been present in any of the subsequent meetings. It had been Special Counsel Landau who Ingram had officially sold The Machine to; Alicia Corwin or Dentin Weeks were the ones Nathan had always dealt with otherwise. Moser had faded into the background and also from any public limelight seemingly doing her job as Northern Lights was still a highly kept secret.
Now staring down the barrel of her gun, Finch realized how ruthless and evil the woman was. She had in the performance of her duties, ordered the murders of countless people who had knowledge directly or indirectly or had gotten too close to the truth about the project.
Harold visibly started. His eyes widened in fear and realization, when it dawned on him. The ferry explosion! Nathan and all those innocent victims — collateral damage — killed in a feigned act of terrorism authorized by her. They were all murdered in the name of secrecy as well as her ultimate goal to possess The Machine for her own nefarious agenda. The agenda had been sidelined temporarily with Northern Light’s physical disappearance, but not abandoned. If controlling The Machine was seemingly out of reach, she obviously was seeking its identical. The one that was created by Author Claypoole, yet not perfected or allowed to be, because Harold had made his own design work first.
Control, Moser, or whoever she was, noticed Harold’s shaken reaction and smiled wickedly, “I see you recognize who and what I am. You realize I have no problem killing either one of you. So what is it going to be?”
Finch knew Claypoole, his mind deteriorating and his memories confused or forgotten, had no idea where Samaritan’s drives were now. Control would kill him regardless. Harold couldn’t let it happen that way. Arthur was dying but Harold wouldn’t let it be at Moser’s hands. They’d kill Shaw too for just being in the room. If he could just play Control long enough for Shaw to get Claypoole and herself to safety.
“All right, I’ll give you what you want,” Harold conceded, hoping that his years of practiced deception would make them fall for the ruse. “I have one stipulation. You let Mr. Claypoole and my associate leave, unharmed.”
Moser was not easily convinced though and threw Harold’s words back at him. “It wasn’t even thirty minutes ago you claimed you couldn’t help us. Besides my associate was there at the warehouse with you months ago. You had no idea where the servers and the black box for your creation had gone. Maybe I should just kill you and take my chances with my dear Arthur here.” She raised her gun once more and pulled back the hammer, the click echoing in the quiet room.
Harold swallowed back the fear that choked him. “I-I don’t know where Northern Lights is at now, but I know who does. That woman… Robin… you sent your man to kill her at the psychiatric hospital; she knows and I have her. I’ve confined her for her own safety and that of others. She’s developed some kind of symbiotic relationship with The Machine. And it frightens me that it communicates with her. It shouldn’t be happening but it is. She torments me that it speaks to her, has revealed its location to her and not to me. She won’t tell me, but you have your ways to get answers.”
”Now why would you give this woman up when you so obviously think you all are some kind of guardian angels?” Control, no Moser's, question was filled with menace and a bit of doubt. The hand holding the gun extended further, aiming directly into Harold’s face.
Harold straightened his body to its full height then stepped even closer towards the woman and the weapon she held on him. Harold couldn't show fear right now of the repercussions of lying to her. He had to make her believe he was telling the truth.
“The woman kidnapped me twice, killed Dentin Weeks right before my eyes and was going to kill me if Ms. Shaw hadn’t wounded her first. The lives of Mr. Claypoole and Ms. Shaw are more important to me right now than that of a lunatic.”
“All right, I’ll give you an hour.” Control accepted the explanation and lowered her gun. “What are your terms?”
“Ms. Shaw and Arthur leave here unharmed. No one follows them. When she calls me to let me know they are safe, I take you to Robin.”
“Let them leave!” Moser barked without glancing behind her. She knew her people would jump to do her bidding. “Give Shaw back her phone, nothing else.” Control glared at Finch then. “Agent Shaw doesn't call within that hour, you die Harold. If you are lying, I will have you killed and I promise you I will hunt them down and they will suffer before I kill them too.”
She snapped the order to her men and then waved her gun in the direction of the sofa. “You sit!” Moser motioned Finch to do just that.
Shaw guided Arthur to the door, turning once to look back at Finch, her eyes asking if he was sure. Harold nodded slightly and she turned without a word, escorting Claypoole out the door with her.
Exactly fifty-nine minutes later Control answered Finch’s cell they had seized from him earlier. She laughed mirthlessly and tossed him the phone, “It’s for you.” Shaw assured Harold that Claypoole was safe and asked once more if Harold was sure. "Yes." Finch confirmed before Hersh grabbed the phone.
Two hours later Harold was in a car, along with Hersh and the other two guard dogs, the driver pulling into the alley behind one of his safe houses. Moser had declined to join them; the woman staying somewhere she would be untouchable as always. She had left them with a repeated warning that she would be watching and waiting, emphasized in no uncertain terms what she would have them do if Harold was lying.
Two hours and thirty minutes later, Harold was standing in the middle of the safe house’s living room as Hersh called Control to report that Harold had indeed lied. He was still getting his instructions when guard dog number two had yelled that Shaw and another woman were in a car slowly moving up the long driveway.
Finch heard Hersh acknowledge, “Yes Ma’am”, before the man pulled his gun and fired.
The force of the bullet’s impact threw Finch backwards onto the floor. The pain was excruciating. When Shaw knelt beside him, Harold clawed at her hands and called out for John. The fire and agony finally stopped then darkness enveloped him.
~~*~~