Chapter Text
The bailiff brought him out into the courtroom. It was too loud, too bright, too... everything. The judge called out a case number, cutting through the haze. John was next.
At this point, John didn't really care. He had felt Arndt's slick blood on his hands, felt bones break beneath his fists. He'd seen the horror in Jessica's face, and wondered what kind of monster he was, that everyone he'd ever loved ended up looking at him like that.
A plea deal later, John's case was up. It was a prelimenary hearing, to which John would plead guilty, and if he was lucky, he would spend the rest of his life in prison.
John stood in front of the judge, but before he could speak, a ghost walked up next to him.
John hadn't seen him in years, had half convinced himself that he was someone John had dreamed up, a young boy's fantasy to keep loneliness at bay.
But here he was. John couldn't look away.
"Harold Kingfisher for the defense, your honor."
---
It wasn't hard to get the charges against John dismissed. There was a case to be made with John's military background and PTSD. Perhaps temporary insanity. But Jessica, soon to be ex-Arndt, had arrived just in time (with a little anonymous help from Harold), and insisted on speaking to the judge. She had quite the black eye, which she hadn't covered with make-up at all, and her arm was in a sling (spiral fracture, Harold knew).
Harold watched her have a quick conversation with John before she left. He didn't need to bluejack anyone's phone to guess what was being said.
It was goodbye. For good, this time. She would always love him, be grateful to him for saving her, but there was no path forward for them. A final kiss, then John was standing there, alone, looking as lost as Harold had ever felt.
Harold couldn't help himself.
---
Harold brought them to a diner. Small. Out of the way. Indistinguishable from the countless others of its kind scattered across the country.
"Their eggs benedict is remarkable, Mr. Friel," Harold said, so that's what John ordered as well.
John tried not to let the formality sting.
As soon as the waitress had left, John leaned forward onto the table.
"Why are you here?" John asked.
Harold met his eyes for the first time since they'd left the courtroom and John just. let himself feel, for the first time in what seemed like forever. It was painful, mostly. Pins and needles. Like a warm blanket after being numb from the cold.
"I suppose," Harold began, "I should say that I came because you needed a lawyer. But I'm well aware that, the facts being what they were, I could have hired anyone even halfway competent and that would have sufficed."
Harold reached across the table to take one of John's hands in both of his, and suddenly John couldn't breath.
"I once promised you I'd never lie to you, and that still applies." Harold paused. "The truth is that I missed you, John."