This is the first fanfic I ever wrote, back in early July of this year; the result of watching that very poignant scene with Finch and Reese set in the Plaza. I was striving to write a story in exactly 500 words! Thought it would be a snap but it turned out to be surprisingly difficult...
He'd had four years. Four years of…happiness. Four years of treading through life knowing there was another person on his path, a someone who could share his unique view of the world, understand his fears. A someone who would break his fall, and listen when his spirit called.
Four years in time, all the more cherished for its abbreviated span.
He hadn't really fully appreciated how precious those years would be to him later, how he would bind them upon his heart, relive every moment and sorrow for those that weren't and never would be. At the time, he could now see, he had been cavalier, perhaps even a bit smug in the knowledge that he had created yet one more partition insulating him from the rest of humanity.
After all, secrets are his currency, and collecting them is an accumulation of wealth…more valued by him than all the money he possesses. And now, all the more important to hoard.
Of course an alternative concept of baring all had never occurred to him as his actions typically, instinctively, followed a life-long pattern of withholding his persona and all that makes him what he is. Only the paranoid survive. That is his creed after all.
Not even for his best friend Nathan, the one constant in his life for a long time, had he removed the partitions in his life. A friend with whom he shared a passion for technology…who had never guessed Grace existed, not even after having been slipped an obvious clue.
"Maybe it's time for you to invest in a little time on your own…"
"How do you know I don't?"
"I know you like your secrets, Harold…but if you'd found someone, I'd never hear the end of it!"
Nathan could also be smug. And condescending…
His relationship with Grace continues to be a secret, his big secret. Not the biggest, since that would be the existence of the Machine, but still a secret he treasures beyond life itself. Having spent so much of his reality interacting only with functional devices made being with Grace like entering a secret garden. Only the flowers she cultivated grew in his heart. It was exhilarating just to be around her, flourishing, thriving, breathing in her…aliveness.
They had shared an interest in old books, literature; could and did spend countless hours debating the merits of a piece of art. And nonsense fluff, like the best way to stuff an olive, or whether pigeons died in mid-flight when they got old. He craved this sharing of his soul with her like the garden flowers craves misty rains. But in the end he had closed the garden gate and walked away to protect her. To ensure she would remain safe to bloom and grow on her own. It was the most difficult thing he had ever done.
He'd had four years with Grace. Not enough, never enough. But still…four years of memories to harvest, treasure, savor.
Four years of…happiness.
John had only four days…