Work Text:
It begins with a thought.
One thought that eclipses all others until John realizes there is only this: he has faith now. In the library. In Finch. In the belief that he is finally doing something worthwhile with his life. He holds this thought close because he knows there will come a time when it will no longer be his.
John won't willingly release it. But he's been through too much and grown too old to lie to himself anymore. Truth is universal even in it's singularity. And his truth belongs to Finch, with his abandoned books and his haunted Machine. He keeps the man's memory in the palms of his hands, careful not to destroy it as those of his kind are wont to do.
“Finch?” he calls as he walks into headquarters. It's late, or early depending on how one looks at it. The sun has yet to rise but he can guarantee the man will be at his computers, hacking away.
“You should be resting, Mr. Reese,” Finch answers drily while standing next to a window, his voice slightly worn from a long day.
“I am.” Upon seeing him John's mouth opens into a genuine grin, lighting up the darkened room.
The thing is, he means it. One day everything will change. No library, no Numbers, no Finch. He accepts that as fact. For now, though, taking his position next to the smaller man, connecting shoulders and hips because the night is too cold for anything other than honesty, John is home, and this? This is enough.