Title: Double Harolds
Characters: Reese & Finch, Harold (OC) & John (OC)
Rating: G
Summery: When Reese sees double, things get interesting
AC: This is a gift for Jinni, whose birthday was yesterday... I'm sorry I'm late! I had around half of it written, but then other things happened and I didn't get it done in time. I hope you like it and had a good birthday. ^w^
He was just walking in the crowd, just another in a sea of faces. Occasionally, he'd look at a camera, and thus the Machine, which of course meant Finch. He was stuck between being comforted and paranoid with the thought that Finch could see him. Be there without being there.
Or maybe he was. Just twenty feet ahead of him, he saw the familiar hairstyle. Along with a quick check of wardrobe; an odd colored waistcoat, wacky colored tie, and glasses, all check. The glasses were a new pair, but he'd already worn two, who's to say he didn't have more?
He stealthily sneaked past him then turned around in the crowd to surprise him from behind. A playful smirk played on his lips as he softly asked, "Harold, what are you doing here?"
The man jumped slightly, turning around to look at him, "Yes, I- w-who are y-you?" At this close of range, he realized with a start that this wasn't Finch. Similar, but now he could pinpoint all the obvious differences. He smiled apologetically, taking a step back and out of the stranger's personal bubble.
"Terribly sorry sir, thought you were someone else."
"Oh... t-that's a-alright..." the stranger still seemed confused, probably wondering what kind of person looked like him. He melded into the crowd as he retreated from the stranger, but before he got too far, Finch's voice appeared in his ear.
"I fear you are loosing your touch, Mr. Reese. Do you need glasses as well?"
Reese chuckled lightly. Of course he had been watching just when Reese thought he was being sneaky. "Haha. Who is he? You know him?"
There was a pause, with only the sound of a keyboard on the other end. Next, Finch was talking in his business tone. There wasn't much of a difference between his playful and professional, but Reese had learned how to tell the difference.
"Doctor Crane, lives in San Francisco, California. Here on business, a meet of psychiatrists. It seems his number is rather high on the list, but not enough to warrant our intervention."
He certainly didn't look like he was in danger, Reese was a safe distance away, and for some reason his interest had been perked. This Finch-look-a-like seemed almost as interesting as Finch himself.
"He answered to Harold." Reese smiled at the pause Finch took before replying, a testament to him understanding the dual meaning.
"That would be because it is his name, Reese. Dr. Harold Crane."
Reese allowed himself to laugh at that. "What are the odds? Double Harolds."
~
Harold stared after the handsome stranger who had somehow known his name. Wait, not his name, because the stranger said he was looking for someone else. But... then was this other person also named Harold? The chances that there was someone else out there who looked, dressed, like him and had the same first name... they were very small. Then again, it was a large world.
He eventually lost the stranger in the sea of faces that made up New York City, but was still unconsciously looking when a hand on his shoulder brought him back. He swiftly swiveled around to face who had grabbed him, only to relax when he recognized the face.
"John! There you are. Where have you been?"
The man smiled, his copper eyes softening. "Oh you know. Flying around. Getting a sense of the area. I need to make sure I know the three blocks around your convention."
Harold sighed and shook his head, adjusting his zig-zag tie. Honestly, this man was unstoppable. "You don't have to worry about me John. It's just a meeting of psychologists and psychiatrists. Not psychopaths. Sometimes I fear you don't know the difference."
The tall man smiled disarmingly, running a hand through his short slick black hair. His dark grey suit and light grey dress shirt complemented his hair and brought out his odd colored eyes. Then his care-free attitude was wiped away to be replaced with calm seriousness.
"You were stuttering. Who talked to you?"
The question caught Harold off guard, "What? How did you know I was talking to anyone?"
John tilted his head to the side like that was a stupid question. "Please, Harold. You only stutter around people you aren't comfortable with. And I can hear that adorable stutter of yours miles away." John smirked at the end of his reasoning, but his tone stayed serious, wanting an answer. He didn't like it when strangers talked to Harold. He would liked to have said his Harold, but the smaller, younger, shy, and intelligent man was forever oblivious to his feelings. Sometimes that was good. Other times, it infuriated the dark haired man to be so blunt about it and not being recognized.
"Oh... well yes, a stranger confused me with someone else. I think he went off that way..." Harold turned his head to look in the direction the handsome man had disappeared to. He couldn't keep a wistful look from flowing across his face. That stranger had such a soothing voice, soft yet powerful.
John looked where Harold was looking, a twinge of jealousy rising. He squashed it and focused on picking out anyone odd in the crowd. After a minute, he spotted a tall man in a nice suit not far off. He seemed to be talking on a phone, but John could see the attempted hidden glances their way.
"Harold, why don't you go to the meeting. I'll meet up with you at lunch."
Harold turned his face to look at John curiously, his pale blue eyes innocent behind his amber glasses. His short dark brown hair blown into an odd shape with the New York wind. It caused John to smile. "You sure? Where are you going?"
"Oh, no where. Just gonna wonder around. Take in New York and all. I'll swing around to get you in a couple hours."
"Well... okay..." Harold began to walk away, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, his shoulder hunched slightly to brace himself against the chilling wind. John almost gave him his suit coat, but stopped himself. They were close friends, but that might be too intimate. Instead, he waited until he was sure Harold was a good distance away, before turning and starting towards this "stranger" that had approached Harold.
~
"There are many people named 'Harold', Mister Reese. As I'm sure there are countless more named 'John'."
Reese smirked and was about to answer when something caught his eye. Another man approached the "Finch-look-a-like" and began conversing with him. Reese felt himself wish he could hear what they were saying for a moment before checking himself. This man wasn't a number, it shouldn't matter right now. Even if he did have an uncanny resemblance to Finch, it didn't mean he was obligated to watch out for him.
So instead of walking back over there, he replied to Finch. "People need to get more original with names. Be creative. Why do we have so many 'John's and 'Bob's but not more names like 'Sherlock'?"
"Because people bully those who are different." Finch's statement was sadly very true, and it struck Reese as though he were speaking from experience. He wondered idly if Finch were ever bullied in high school, and thought made him irrationally angry.
He was brought out from his trail of thought with a man suddenly appearing before him. That was irrational, he probably walked right up to him, but Reese had been so engulfed in his thoughts that he'd failed to have noticed. Maybe he did need glasses. Or he was getting old. Either was a scary thought.
"You talked to Harold."
No question, no hello, just a statement to a total stranger. Reese couldn't help but be curious how this man knew that. "Who? Oh, you mean the guy I mistook for someone else, as I said to him, terribly sorry. Now, who are you?"
"Why did you talk to Harold?" This guy was starting to get annoying. Completely ignoring his question like that and instead asking one of his own. Then again, if the roles were reversed, he might have done that as well.
"I believe I just answered that." His voice remained calm and friendly, no need to start something that didn't happen. But this guy was just looking for a fight.
"Stay away from Dr. Harold," the man narrowed his odd color eyes, must be wearing contacts, people from San Francisco were so odd. He then seemed to look Reese over, before locking eyes with him again, "You have a dangerous aura about you. Like you're always just a step away from trouble. I don't want Harold getting hurt."
Reese smiled at him, "I don't want my Harold getting hurt either. So I understand." This seemed to pacify the guarded stranger. And both men regarded each other with a nod. He then turned on his heel and escaped into the crowd, the man's dark grey suit being lost in the bodies of other people.
"Care to explain that, Mister Reese?"
"Weren't you paying attention, Finch?"
"I was, which is why I asked."
Reese smirked, today was turning out to be very entertaining. "Just an exchange between two guys who share something. Did you get his number while he was talking? I have a feeling he's the reason why intervention isn't necessary for Dr. Crane."
"Just a moment Mr. Reese. Ah here, his name is-... ha."
"Finch?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes, well, you're going to find this rather funny."
"Not if you don't tell me Finch."
"His name is John."
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