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He'd just left his apartment when he received the text.
Buy Macarons, NOW! S.
He told his driver to take him to "Ladurée on the Champs Elysées" certain Miss Shaw had a good reason.
And there was her reason, paying for macarons. John, his John, very much alive. He quelled the urge to rush to embrace him not certain of his welcome as John hadn't even let him know he was alive. "Mr. Reese."
John turned awkwardly, his rare smile lighting up his face as he hugged him tightly. "Finch!"
"Come home with me." Feeling John tense he worried the longing in his voice had given him away. "... We should catch up."
John stepped back.
He had no claim on John but was greedy for any extra time he might get with him. "Please, John."
"Alright."
An enthusiastic greeting awaited them. John went slowly to his knees to return it. "You got another Belgian Malinois."
"Meet Cub, one of Bear's sons. After you—" died, he couldn't bring himself to say it "—it seemed only right to leave Bear with Miss Shaw because they needed each other. When Bear sired a litter, she offered me Cub and I couldn't say no."
"Of course not." John hid his face in Cub's neck.
He busied himself making coffee and at John's insistence plated some macarons. John drank his coffee but left the macarons untouched.
He knew he shouldn't ask, in fact was afraid of the answer, but he had to. "Why didn't you contact me?"
"In person? The Machine had a back-up plan unknown to either of us but I still almost died. Did in fact, a few times but they managed to revive me. With two major infections and then pneumonia, it was three months before I was in the clear... They told me you'd gone to Italy to see Grace." John looked down at his hands. "I asked them to let you know so your happiness wouldn't be marred by any needless guilt."
He choked down his anger. "I wasn't informed."
John's lips curved slightly. "I did think you would have at least said goodbye." John stood. "It's better if I'm not here when Grace gets home."
"Grace is home, in Italy."
John sat down. "I'm sorry, Harold. I would have bet on her forgiving you."
"She did. I went because I needed to tell her as much of the truth as I could because she deserved to know, not to try to win her back." I love you. "Too much water under the bridge." He pushed the plate closer to John, who finally took one of the macarons. "What brought you to Paris?"
"...I was at a loose end but needed to stay busy. I had the money you'd paid me and decided to see some of the places you'd talked about during our late nights at the library."
"Hence Ladurée?"
"Exactly. And you?"
"My holdings include this apartment. I've always loved Paris and wasn't ready yet to go back to the States."
"...I'm checking out of my hotel tomorrow. I was thinking Berlin next."
"Don't go."
"What?"
"Stay with me." John looked stunned. The last thing John needed after everything he'd been through was to be burdened with Harold's feelings. "I have spare bedrooms. We're friends, I could show you Paris and—"
"No."
He hadn't fooled John at all.
"I want more from you, have for a long time but that's my problem, not yours." John reached for his coat. "I better go."
He'd not been as obvious as he thought. He leaned in and kissed John gently, cradling his face in both hands.
John pulled away abruptly. "I don't need your pity."
"I'm not offering it."
"Look at me, Finch, really look at me."
He did. John was far too thin, his suit hanging off him and there was a noticeable tremor in his left hand. A bullet had left a radiating scar across his now much sharper right cheekbone and a corresponding stark streak of white hair through the salt and pepper. He was more weathered but still undeniably John and his heart still yearned for him.
"You can't even see most of the damage." John unconsciously rubbed his chest. "I only ever had two things to recommend me. I was reasonably attractive and could kill someone with a pencil and neither is true now."
Neither of them had ever been very good at declarations but he had to try. "I was drawn to you despite your abilities with a pencil not because of them. You only see your flaws but I see how everything knits together to make you a truly extraordinary man."
John looked skeptical. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Why didn't you?"
"Nothing I've done makes me worthy of you."
"Nor I you." John snorted but he kept going. "And then you were lost to me and it was too late, or so I thought. But now I've got another chance and I'm not going to waste it. Stay with me, John."
"How could you want me now?" John hunched in on himself.
"You were always handsome but you look quite piratical now which isn't at all fair. He reached out his hand to stroke John's scarred cheek. "Anyway, I could ask the same thing. It's not like your dance card's ever been lacking for beautiful people." He could never have imagined that John would return his feelings.
"Because you're an original— only you would talk about 'dance cards.' Because when you find that one person who connects you to the world, you become someone different, someone better..." John leaned into his touch. "And you have a great ass."
They grinned at each other. When he kissed John again, it was returned with enthusiasm, John wrapping his arms around him.
If you meant something to someone, if you loved someone, if even a single person remembered you, then maybe you never really died. And this wasn't their end at all but their beginning.