You would not know what you were looking for unless you had been clued in before. This far down in the doldrums, it is easy to lose yourself in the countless hallways and offices. It is hidden within a bureaucratic machine, one designed to eat away at the tax dollars of the most wealthy nation in history. Washington D.C., or maybe a few miles outside of it, that is where what is left of the Unusual Incidents Unit found their disguise.
It had been some time since Harvey had come back. His ID card was old, discolored, and far beyond its expiration date. It took five scans and a few buzzer presses to get the doors to accept it. Still, WESCOM had not had a change of locks in a long time. The doors accepted it all the same.
This place was quieter now, all that was left of the once busy complex was distant voices past corners Harvey did not bother looking around. He had not come for conversation, after all, nor broke his self-prescribed exile to ask for favors. Sure, he was still owed some, but those favors were not needed anymore.
In a way, there was relief. All of his debts were paid but those he could not care to repay anyways. Every debt but one, the one written in stone and blood. In an unavoidable hallway, the only of its kind within the entire underground complex, was a wall dedicated to it. Year by year, portrait by portrait, stood enshrined dozens of the nation’s finest heroes. Silent sacrifices made as the ending to a life of service for a purpose beyond themselves.
There, listed from 1935 to 1993, stood tall that final unpayable debt.
Harvey paused for the first time since he’d entered to pay his respects.
1993, nearly thirty years ago now. That was the final year that they took count, when the numbers had all too suddenly spiked beyond what the wall could ever think to handle. Some of the big-wigs or true tragedies got their pictures hung that year, but for the vast majority, all they had room for were the names. That was all that remained of those who died within The Collapse. Even now, fresh flowers were laid by those thankful that they didn’t find themselves in a crowded space under that year. On that damn wall.
Back when everything fell apart, when the real bastards kicked in the doors. They’d all been blindsided, systematically ripped apart in the chaos. There were quite a few lucky souls who got unlucky that day, the type you thought would live forever. They were all torn to shreds by a Skipper’s rifle, a Blue’s plasma gun, or whatever the hell else it was that the Coalition used. None of them even had time to realize what was going on before those vultures from the outside came in and let them have it.
One second you were a protected member of the United States government, a regulator of them, and the next it didn’t matter if you had a personal pardon from the President himself. None of that was worth a shit once the FBI signed their death warrants, and the UIU’s beloved Director Hills was too late to sound the alarm. They said that Hills could’ve saved them all if Gilmore’s old ass had just retired earlier. Bullshit. He was just as clueless as the rest of them, and it led to all those non-governmental fucks who had never made an oath to anyone gunning Americans down. Hills could’ve shot them all himself for all that Harvey cared, especially after he turned the gun on himself only a few years later.
The old man felt his breath hanging in the back of his throat, but he would not linger near the wall any longer. Harvey, after all, knew something that those who laid the flowers today did not. He knew that a few of those names from 1993 weren’t supposed to be on that wall.
Not everyone was so oblivious. Some of them, at least, the ones who realized what they were actually up against. They had plans back then, you know? A way out if things took a turn the way it was looking like it might. So many others couldn’t see the idea - they thought it was pointless, that all the other factions would continue to play nice. They were fighting the good fight, after all. The UIU could keep poking the bear forever, and it wouldn’t matter as long as nobody high up ever somehow got the idea that the bear might be more useful than the ones holding the stick. Rest assured, though, some of those names on that damn wall ain’t supposed to be up there. They’d left all of this behind for some place greater.
And Harvey? Today, Harvey was joining them. There was nothing left for him here anymore.
Within the back of the corridors was where he found the door. There, hung upon its wooden frame were the ranks and names that he had left behind. Pushing open the door, Harvey was struck by the smell, or lack thereof. Too many times, a younger him had been smacked in the face by cheap cologne, untouched coffee, or some horrific mixture of the two. Instead, there was nothing but dust cast into stagnant air from the intrusion from a stranger, one to whom this place belonged. Harvey took a single step inside before flicking the light switch.
Half of the lights turned on, glowing with a dull orange hue. The others, hung relaxed from a sagging ceiling, stubbornly refused. What was here felt like a memorial, still untouched by anything but the dust. The desk, the files, the boxes and trinkets that had accumulated from countless closed cases. Evidence, timepieces, and trophies all thrown into boxes, labelled, and to be discarded or re-examined another time. Untouched in spite of the time gone by was a meticulously organized mess.
His desk was cluttered in a similar way, though clearer than where had room to fill the floor. Harvey had always needed some empty space for himself or his partner to write reports, and some idea of cleanliness allowed a clear view of a picture frame near the far edge. It was visible, somewhat, through its fine layer of particulates. Two little figures dressed in bright yellows, adorned with white numbers, wearing baseball helmets, and with their arms draped around the abdomens of their mother and father. Harvey reached out towards the photo’s frame, and then placed it face down upon the desk. He didn’t want to look at it right now.
It did, however, remind him of another matter he needed to settle. Upon Harvey’s ring finger was a lifelong commitment, one that he could no longer fulfill.
Elizabeth didn't know anything that could hurt her. She knows she can't know, that everything he did was hidden behind locked doors and security clearances. She knows that he draws a paycheck from the FBI, and that somewhere the numbers don't add up, that he's getting more than he should. She knows that he is away for long periods of time, that he'd come back sometimes with new scars, and once or twice with fully covered hospital bills. He could count on his hand the number of times she'd been hinted at with the truth, and every single time it scared her enough that she didn't want to know anymore. To Harvey, that was pretty good for a thirty two year long marriage.
She doesn't know that the extra cash comes from a big pile of money somewhere out in Arizona. She doesn't know that it came from drugs, arms deals, and extortion on a nationwide scale. She doesn't know that the money is starting to rot, and that they'd had to burn nearly half of it to keep the other half afloat. She doesn't know that the money is running out, and that when it does, a lot more people are going to die.
She doesn't know that the scars are more mental than physical, and that he'd seen things that no other human on Earth besides a select few can or ever should. She doesn't know that he's been underground in cults, killed prodigal sons, and found himself five hundred feet underground without a flashlight. She doesn't know about the fives, or the Skippers, or the traitorous bastards from the Department of Defense who'd been waiting for them to slip up so that they could eat them whole. She doesn't know that in 93', Harvey had lost everyone he'd ever cared about, and that he'd just been taking the cash ever since. She didn't know about the gun he kept under the floorboards in the kitchen closet, the tickets to a far away place, nor the false identities he'd set up for the whole family. She doesn't know that it's pointless, and that if the big fish ever noticed what some of them had been doing since they last beat them down, it wouldn't matter.
Maybe what she didn't know was enough to keep her safe once Harvey was gone.
Next to the ring and frame, the desk lamp. Even without years having washed by, it hadn’t worked for a long time before Harvey last stepped out of this office. It was old-school, with a green hood and a still glistening brass base, like it was plucked out of a bank - or more accurately - a library. Distinct. If anyone had bothered to take this heavy chunk of metal into their possession, Harvey would have been able to spot it from a mile away. That, and the tracker planted inside would help with that job.
Harvey took it by the arm, reached into his coat pocket, and took out his lighter. He had not smoked in years, but it was not for any addiction anymore. Reaching out towards the base, he felt the pull in his fingertips. Magnetic, almost, but with a buzzing sensation that sent ripples up his arm. It was there. It was still inside that lamp.
His gift from Shaw, and the single most important thing ever trusted to him. Shaw had seen something within him, the same thing that drew him to pluck Harvey from his posting in the Georgia State Patrol. He’d called it intuition, said that he’d been keeping an eye on him for some time and that he’d heard good things. A few weeks in Manhattan gave Harvey the chance to prove himself to the man he’d call his mentor, and for it, he was given the road he walked down.
The tracking thing, of course, was its own little lie, but not one that Shaw ever explained. Harvey never dared to ask. He knew that the man was an odd-ball even by UIU standards, a part of some new school of thought that was gaining popularity like a flame to dry grass. The types that were perfectly willing to share their badge that had certain gifts and learn from them. AIMS, they’d called it, an initiative that placed them on the rare “non-shit-list” of men and women many called Serpents. Shaw had been one of the first to cross the line and shake hands with them long before he ever met Harvey.
Shaw never claimed the name they gave him, but he did accept their gifts. Access to The Library was a rarity, but not one unheard of for AIMS. Harvey never did follow him in, but if there was anything the two ever needed to know while on the road, Shaw could cover for them both. He’d been the expert in research and rituals, Harvey with scene-work and people. Late nights dragged into years spent in motels or in the back of busted-up cars sharing cheap food while staring out a pair of binoculars. Shaw had been the perfect partner.
And then they killed him. They killed him, and they killed anyone else who dared to do anything else but raise their hands in compliance to their paranoid ways. A final shock to the system, rehabilitation via firing squad. And they let it fucking happen.
One final gift, and not one that either had treated lightly. A contingency, an escape from a reality doomed should all the efforts have been for nothing. A one way jump into a world where things might have gone differently, and a way to leave it all behind. Harvey thought Shaw was insane. Yet, after all of this time, the buzzing sensation still crept up his arm. It was still there. Harvey could hardly believe it.
“Nick!?”
Harvey’s eyes jumped from the desk, settling upon the skeletal figure in his doorway. He had not heard the footsteps, too focused instead on his trance of reminiscing. Stood there bore the man whose face, while unfamiliar at first, rose to mind a name unforgettable to Nicholas Harvey. He spoke before he realized his lips were moving.
“Aidan?”
“Shit, Harvey, good to see you! It’s been forever, hasn’t it?!”
“Yeah, it has been.”
Harvey had to think of something, and quickly. There were a million ways to go about an explanation, but he did not have the time to consider his options. The first that came to mind was the first that was spoken.
“I just came to pick up some old files.”
“Files?” came the voice at the doorway, already gone from Harvey’s sight now that he had turned away from it. He’d picked up one of the aging cardboard boxes and placed it upon his desk. It offered him a short pause to think of something believable.
“A task force down in Houston is having trouble with a flesh cult, and I figured I had something that might help them here.”
Aidan’s voice was more excited now. “You getting involved?”
“Not too much,” Harvey replied, “just wanted to make sure they have what they need.” The old man was well past his years for any form of field work beyond the bare minimum. Getting tangled into a mess with Sarkics wasn’t at all within his capabilities anymore.
“Oh, yeah, I guess I didn’t figure. You want some help packing while you find that file?”
“No, I’ll be fine.”
“I ain’t gonna let you do it alone. I insist.”
Harvey didn’t like how this conversation was steering. Aidan was treating this like a talk between two long lost friends reunited at last. There was some truth to that, but Harvey had not shown up to work for two weeks now. Had word not reached WESCOM yet? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Someone might’ve been covering for the old veteran, or information wasn’t getting around as quickly as it should. Whatever the case, Harvey needed to get out of here quickly.
Aidan had picked up another box nearby, and after a small nod of approval was granted, emptied it out to make room for what was on the desk. First were the little things, the pens and notebooks, folders and such… Then Aidan came across the photo frame and ring.
Shit, he forgot to hide them. How the hell did he forget that?
“I bet the old woman is happy you’re not on the road anymore. How is she, by the way?”
He’d picked up the ring now and offered it towards Harvey. The golden, shimmering metal piece planted itself within his palm, and just for a moment his eyes lingered upon its glimmer.
Eight full years after it all went to hell, when Harvey still worked cases, Elizabeth wanted a family. She had wanted one for quite some time, but Harvey wasn’t the kind of man anymore that would make for a good father. Shaw was gone, never coming back, and if there was anything that he would have wanted it was for Harvey to continue where they left off. He was more than willing to keep going until it ended him.
For eight years Elizabeth stuck with him through that time, making do with a husband who was more often than not only ever with her over a cell phone. She was loyal to the core, and the best damn wife he could have ever asked for. It was not until Director Hills stuck that gun in his own mouth that Harvey could accept that it was time to be done. The last leader of a generation wanting something more, beaten into submission, accepted that their life had been for nothing.
After the shock wore off, Harvey figured that it was time to finally focus on Elizabeth. She’d done so much for him that it felt wrong to just let her never have the life she deserved.
“She’s fine.”
“Yeah?” asked Aidan, who now grabbed the photo frame. His back was turned as Harvey slipped the ring into his pocket.
“Just getting used to an empty nest.”
“Oh, the kids are off? How’s that been?”
He could see the photo more clearly now as Aidan wiped off the dust. The two little baseball stars with their mother and father, all smiles and joy. It was 2005 when they took that picture, propped up together outside of a gas station instead of the field. They’d have taken it right after the game, but the boys lost that day, and that kind of bad mood was one only solvable with a blank check in the ice cream department and the promise to go and see The Chronicles of Narnia.
All of that is over now. Cody had been the second of the two boys to move away for university, gunning for a degree in pre-law. That was three years ago. Josh left earlier, and although the road towards his own success had been bumpier, he’d make it. Harvey raised that boy as stubborn as a mule. Nothing was going to stop him. Not this. Not what was going to happen today. Harvey’s final debt to the world was gone and would be making the best out of what they’d be given.
He felt something rising in his chest. This was getting far too personal far too quickly, and worse, Aidan still wasn’t showing any signs of anger. He was a Supervisory Special Agent now, busy with his own new problems with a generation of rejects. The man he once called the kid had done well. That made him a threat. Harvey needed to shut down the line of questioning without opening another, and quickly. Watching Aidan plant the lamp in the box meant it was time to go.
“They’re getting through it.”
Harvey plucked a file from a meaningless box, one that looked vaguely anti-cult related in nature. He made a motion of holding it up for Aidan to see before slipping it next to the lamp.
“Here, got it,” Harvey said as he began to pick up the box and move for the door.
Aidan planted his hand upon the top, pressing it down into the desk. There was a brief silence, and then Aidan spoke first.
“That’s it, then?”
“What?”
“We don’t see each other for a decade, and that’s it?”
“I just needed to-”
Aidan cut in, his tone becoming more akin to what Harvey would have expected from a man bearing the title of Supervisory Special Agent. Authoritative. Clear. He was almost proud.
“You tripped sensors coming in. I had to buzz you in myself. Bring something with you?”
The question caught Harvey off balance. When did they install sensors, and for what? At least they were past the point of small talk, and Harvey was suddenly blessing his luck for talking about something having to do with field operations. He could still make it look like he was just getting back on the saddle.
“Yeah. Just a piece for reference.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
Oh, Christ, that was not what he wanted to hear. Aidan should have asked to see it. He should’ve been worried that it was dangerous. He should’ve been concerned that a senior agent was smuggling in artifacts. He should’ve been angered by any other fact than its existence hadn’t been brought up until now.
“I didn’t think it was important.”
Harvey couldn’t let him cut in with another line again. Harvey needed to get out that beyond the door and move on before Aidan realized that something was off, if he hadn’t already. Harvey felt a strange sense of desperation as he spoke, and regretted his choice of words as soon as they had left him.
“Look, I really have to get going.”
“Just like that? We’re half a country away from Houston, a couple of minutes of conversation can’t kill us here. Come on, I want to know how my old friend is doing, man.”
Man. Aidan didn’t speak like that. He didn’t say man.
“He’s busy, and focused on trying to save American lives.”
Harvey broke the box from Aidan’s grasp, its contents shuffling inside noisily. He began towards the door, and now Aidan raised his voice as he planted a hand upon Harvey’s shoulder.
“And that means we can’t at least catch up?”
“Catch up on what? What’s left to catch up on?”
“I don’t know, Nick. Whatever it is people catch up on. You disappear for ten years and I find you cleaning out your old office-”
“It’s not-”
“-so forgive me for wanting five minutes before you’re gone again.”
“There’s nothing to catch up on! It’s the same as it has been! You’re stuck here in purgatory with the rest of them Aidan, you tell me how it’s 'been'!”
“Purgatory? Is that what this is to you? Why haven’t you been showing up for wo-”
Harvey was speaking faster than he thought he was. There was a lump in his throat, and he felt that if he took any time to contemplate upon that sensation, it would burst from within. He needed Aidan away. Now.
“Yeah, it’s a fucking purgatory! It’s a buncha dried husks with their thumbs up their mouths hoping that the big bad wolf doesn’t come knocking again!”
“Oh, what, so we’re not still pulling people out of the worst day of their lives?”
“And that’s good enough? We gave up everything we stood for, everything we bled for, everything good men fought and died for, and now the status quo is all we’re good for!? Rotting away in this corpse of what used to be worth something, stuck with a hand up our ass and speaking the words of whatever monolith killed our friends!? Giving into all their bullshit and allowing it to all be for nothing!?”
“Nothing?”
“NOTHING! There’s nothing here! They killed it! We are gone, Aidan! We are NOTHING!”
He’d been practically screaming at this point. The old man’s lungs were tense, forcing a heavy pause for air as he registered the feeling of moisture upon the corners of his eyelids. Aidan, standing just feet away, was but a blurred and defeated figurine. Harvey wasn’t sure how much that he knew, but what he said next meant he knew enough.
“Why does this feel like the last time we’ll see each other, Nick?”
Harvey had done well. He didn’t even notice Aidan doing it, but he’d worked the old man up. It was a masterclass in everything he had taught him, now pointed right back at in the direction of Nicholas Harvey. He could hardly breathe, only managing a few more words through clenched teeth as Aidan held him by the shoulders.
“Just, please, let me go.”
The younger of the two old men nodded, then gently led his friend back to the desk. He took a seat, and held on.
“Alright, Nick…” came his words, “Just for a moment, though, can we act like we’re two old friends, just talking about old times?”
The thought of that did sound nice.