Work Text:
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Reese,” Harold chided across the earpiece. “Getting to me safely will take far too long; Miss Shaw needs your immediate assistance.”
The muffled bangs and crunches continued, as John fought to move the rubble that had separated them. “I’m not leaving you in there, Finch—”
“Nor would I expect you to,” Harold returned with clear exasperation. “With Miss Shaw’s help, it should be easier to clear the area and get me out.”
“And let you suffocate in the meantime?”
“I’ve more than enough air. Believe me, John, it’s better if you go help her first.”
John might have argued more, but a pair of distant gunshots decided the matter. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised.
“Don’t worry,” Harold said dryly, “I’m not going anywhere.”
As John’s footsteps finally receded, a fond smile crossed Harold’s face. Shaw would be there for John when they realized the truth, when John got frantic in his attempt to deny it; she could make sure he didn’t follow Harold too soon.
It was almost peaceful, going this way. Progressively colder and numb, yes, but the piece of rebar that had pierced and pinned him didn’t even hurt.
