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i.
Harriet had always suspected that it made her a bad daughter, but she had never loved her father more than when he said he neither wanted nor expected her to stay home to take care of him.
ii.
There had only been two other girls in Harriet's MIT class, both earnest with shiny hair, and neither of them had taken to Harriet.
Not that the young men of MIT had exactly flocked to the flat-chested, mousy haired girl who could program rings around all of them.
Arthur Claypool had become the closest thing Harriet had to a friend; he had delighted in Harriet's quickness with both computer code and the particular type of girl who could be found in a certain sort of Cambridge drinking establishment.
Yet when it came time to set up IFT Harriet had turned to Nathan Ingram. Nathan was another friend of Arthur's, one who had tolerated Harriet, regarding her as a cross between their class mascot and a reliable way to get the answers on the homework that he hadn't done.
This was the early eighties and start-up capital had come more easily to the handsome, smooth talking Nathan than it did to the undeniably female - though not in ways that appealed to the men she needed to bankroll her ideas - Harriet.
Later, of course, there had been other reasons for Harriet to remain incognito.
While many of her classmates had been threatened by Harriet's intellect Nathan had always been happy to coast on her coattails, and for twenty years a similar dynamic had been at play at IFT.
Nathan had become a wealthy and respected man, and Harriet's life wasn't cluttered up with female entrepreneur of the year awards. Their arrangement worked out well for both of them, and if they never became great friends, they did become true partners.
Nathan even named Harriet godmother to his son, and although Harriet had at first resented his erroneous assumption that her sex gave her some sort of affinity with children, she ultimately grew rather fond of Will.
Harriet always wondered how things might have been different had she asked Arthur to partner with her instead: would Samaritan never have been created, or would Arthur's influence have meant that Harriet's own Machine was more like Samaritan?
Would Will's father be alive?
iii.
Harriet was not the type of woman who people looked at twice in the street.
She had cultivated a nondescript, unmemorable persona; helped along by unprepossessing genetics and her advancing middle years.
Grace had looked twice.
Up until her engagement Harriet's money had sat in various bank accounts and investment funds quietly accumulating zeroes. But after she had proposed to Grace - down on both knees, because the narrow tweed skirt she was wearing wouldn't let her go down on one, Grace trying to laugh, say yes, and brush the grass from Harriet's knees all at the same time - Harriet had poured significant funds into the campaign to legalize gay marriage.
"Why bother?" Nathan had asked, not unkindly as such, but he'd grown used to Harriet having little interest in their vast and growing fortune. "It's not like you can marry her under your real name anyway."
If Harriet had had a small part in the legalizing of same sex marriage then she considered it one of her better contributions to the world, but it didn't come close to balancing out having broken Grace's heart.
iv.
"Have you considered getting a cat?" had been John's question when Harriet had first approached him with an employment opportunity.
Mr. Dillinger had been convinced that Harriet wanted to have sex with him, and his predecessor had harbored violent intent towards her that Harriet had only been alerted to when the Machine had spat out Harriet's own number - her original one, that Harriet had thought she'd buried so deep that not even the Machine could uncover it - three days in a row.
After that Harriet had given serious consideration to recruiting a woman to handle the more physical aspects of investigating the irrelevant numbers. But although women with the necessary skills were out there they were comparatively rare, and Harriet had a good feeling about John Reese, one that was undiminished when her research uncovered his role in the disappearance of his old girlfriend's abusive spouse.
And so Harriet had approached John Reese in person, rather than employing a male proxy, and he had mistaken her for a lonely and attention seeking spinster.
"I'm really more of a dog person, Mr. Reese."
v.
"Are you in love with Wonder Boy, or what?"
Detective Fusco had asked the question as though there was only one possible answer, and occupied in circumventing the DOJ's firewalls Harriet hadn't dignified it with a response.
vi.
"If you're having trouble with that - " Harriet had said, when she first saw John Reese, international spy, struggle to tie his bowtie " - then thank your lucky stars that you don't have to wrangle yourself into women's formalwear."
John had looked up. "Finch, you look--"
"Yes," Harriet had said, limping forward, her evening gown paired awkwardly with her flat shoes. "Sufficient application of money used to be enough to compensate for any other feminine deficiencies that I might have, but unfortunately they do not make dresses with women who can no longer walk in high heels in mind. Although - " Harriet had held up a cane of dark wood with a heavy bronze handle " - as compensation I can now accessorize with walking sticks."
"No, you look--" John had swallowed, and nodded towards Harriet's cane. "Good choice, Finch. Ready made weapon."
vii.
"Is John in love with you?"
Detective Carter's question was deserving of more serious consideration, but although she turned it over and over in her mind Harriet never reached a satisfactory conclusion.
viii.
It had taken a long time for Harriet to stop having nightmares about Root.
Long after their first meeting, when Root was more ally than adversary, she could still hear the bullet entering Alicia Corwin's skull, and Alicia's final, surprised huff of breath.
Harriet remembered the needle slipping beneath the skin of her arm, stealing what was left of her mobility, and the claustrophobia of Root crowding over her in the wheelchair.
She remembered Root cupping Harriet's face in her hands, like some cruel parody of a lover, brushing back Harriet's dry, slightly frizzy hair, and digging fingernails still tacky with black polish into the soft skin behind Harriet's ears.
"You and I are the same, Harriet. You'll see that soon enough."
"Why?" Harriet had managed to spit out. "Just because we're both women?"
Root had leaned close enough for the smell of her shampoo to get up Harriet's nose. "Because we're better than all the rest of them, men and women." Root had grinned viciously. "But, you know, mostly men."
For a long time after that whenever Harriet pressed her fingers into her forehead it was as much to try and get rid of the feeling of Root's dry lips lingering against her skin as it was to fend off an impending headache.
ix.
When Sameen Shaw's number had come up alongside Michael Cole's, it was not the first time that she had come to Harriet's attention.
Shaw had been one of the female operatives that Harriet had considered hiring prior to Mr. Reese. But despite her removal from her medical residency, at the time of Harriet's research she had been a Marine in good standing and there had been no obvious avenues for recruitment.
Harriet had hired John instead, and never had any cause to doubt her decision - and for a time significant doubts about Ms. Shaw - but it seemed the Machine had taken note of Harriet's interest, because not long after her initial inquires Agent Shaw had been recruited to Northern Lights.
"The Machine enjoys the company of women," Ms. Groves had said once, with something that might have been charitably described as a wink.
Aside from her invaluable medical skills and the backup she provided to Mr. Reese, Harriet had another reason to be grateful for Ms. Shaw's presence: she had redirected Root's terrifying flirtations to somewhere they appeared to be more welcome.
"Hi, Harry!" Root had taken to calling her Harry, over Harriet's strenuous objections. She had draped herself over Harriet's shoulder. "Miss me?"
"Ms. Groves, please. I'm working."
"For God's sake, Root," Ms. Shaw had huffed. "Stop sexually harassing Finch."
x.
Ms. Finch," Greer had said the first time they came face to face. "I must say I'm surprised."
"Yes," Harriet had said, with the tight grimace she usually reserved for men who told her to smile, "people often are."