Finn Lennoy - August 2120
The weather is warm today, but not too hot, a perfect summer day to be outside. So when I finally managed to persuade Noah to step out of the lab, even if only for a short while, it felt like a small victory.
We walk through the field behind the house. The grass is short underfoot, and in the distance, people are taking their dogs for walks while kids kick a football back and forth.
Noah walks silently beside me, still nibbling on his toast. I glance at him as we move. He still looks tired, even after managing a full night's sleep. The weight of last night's episode, followed by jumping straight back into work this morning, is written all over him. I keep my hand close, half-expecting him to falter, but he stays steady, quiet, precise, and entirely absorbed in the small, ordinary moment of being outside.
I can feel the tension lingering around him, subtle but there. And even though he wouldn't admit it, I know he needs this. He needs a moment that isn't measured in calculations, deadlines, or failures.
"Sorry, Finn" Noah says, and it catches me off guard.
I turn to look at him, but before I can respond, he keeps going.
"You must be exhausted dealing with my… episodes." he mutters, voice steady, eyes fixed straight ahead.
I shake my head gently. "Noah… you never have to apologise for that. I'm always here for you" I say, voice soft but firm. And I mean it, every word.
I give him a small, reassuring smile, letting the words hang in the air. He glances at me for the briefest moment before looking back at the path ahead.
"You know" he says quietly, almost to himself, "I was thinking…"
I tilt my head, curious.
"After the summit… when everything is settled, we should go somewhere. A true break. Away from labs, deadlines, and constant equations."
I can't help the small laugh that escapes me. "And where exactly do you imagine this holiday happening, genius?" I tease lightly, trying to ease the tension still lingering in his shoulders.
"I don't know" he says, the corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. "Beach, mountains… perhaps both. Somewhere to breathe."
I glance at him, taking in the rare softness in his expression. Even in the midst of his obsession and exhaustion, he's thinking about me. About us. It makes my chest tighten in a way I can't quite put into words.
"You've got it all planned out already, don't you?" I say, trying to keep my voice casual.
"Not particularly" he says, shrugging, though his eyes linger on mine. "I just… thought you deserved a break too. You're always monitoring me, seems only fair I plan something for you, even if it's small."
I feel warmth spread through me. "Noah, that's… that's thoughtful" I murmur. "I think that would be a good idea"
He nods, back to his quiet focus on the path, but there's a small ease in his posture now, a hint of hope threading through his otherwise restless energy.
"So…" he starts, voice low, hesitant, "about… the bunker thing."
I glance at him, curious. "You mean the 'escape tunnel'?" I say lightly, teasing to ease him.
He glances at me sharply, a faint flush on his cheeks. "I… didn't manage that well. The… episode," he says, kicking at a stone. "I think I may have scared you."
I shake my head, smiling. "Scared me? Maybe a little at first. But it's fine. You're… you. Nothing new there."
He twists the edge of his top between his fingers, eyes locked on the grass. "I can't believe I… attempted to construct a tunnel. Like some… paranoid lunatic. I must have appeared entirely irrational."
"You did look intense" I say with a smirk. "Like a very clever, slightly terrifying squirrel on a mission."
Noah groans, ducking his head. "A squirrel? Really, Finn?"
"Hey" I reply, nudging his shoulder gently, "it fits. Gloves, goggles, half-assembled panels everywhere… I was expecting a tiny flag at the end saying 'Mission Accomplished.'"
He peeks at me, chuckling quietly. "You make me sound completely ridiculous."
"you can be" I tease, grinning. "But also… brilliant, smart and caring. Just occasionally overdramatic."
He sighs, shaking his head, but the tension in his shoulders eases as he falls into step beside me. "I guess… I just can't stand the thought of putting you at risk. Even if it's… paranoia, fueled by panic."
"You didn't" I say softly. "plus i'm stronger than you do i'm not afriad of you." I tease.
He glances at me, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I'll try to keep the secret underground tunnel phase to a minimum next time."
"Good" I reply, smirking. "But if you ever build another one, I'm expecting a treat at the end."
He snorts, shaking his head. "You really don't let me live anything down, do you?"
"uhm... only sometimes" I say, warm. "But that's why I'm here. That and to make sure you don't fall into a trap door without me knowing."
He finally laughs properly, the sound carrying across the quiet field. "Alright… fair enough."
We continue our walk, the sun warming the back of my neck, and just on cue, Noah glances at his watch before looking back at me.
"It's been an hour" he says, and I know exactly what he means. Time to head back.
I let out a slow sigh. I really don't want to go back. Even though it was short, this has been the most like the real Noah I've seen in over a month. I've missed this version of him, lighter, calmer, just… himself.
But I know there's nothing I can say to persuade him to stay longer. So I nod.
We turn from the field and start back toward the house, the soft crunch of grass under our feet marking the rhythm of our walk.
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As we walk through our garden it feels calm, the late afternoon light filtering through the leaves, dappled across the path.
Noah falls into step beside me, quiet, almost contemplative. Every so often he glances at the flowers or the shrubs, but his attention drifts quickly back to me. I can tell he's holding onto the ease of the walk like it's fragile, like he's aware it can't last.
I glance at him, subtle warmth stirring in my chest. He's calmer than he's been in weeks, shoulders looser, eyes a little lighter. And yet… I know the lab waits, humming with deadlines, experiments, and the relentless pull of the nullifier.
"You okay?" I ask softly, letting my voice break the silence.
He nods, barely, and manages a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah. Better. The walking helped."
I smile faintly. "I noticed."
He glances at me quickly, then looks back at the garden path, cheeks tinged faintly pink. "I… missed this," he admits quietly, almost embarrassed. "I missed just walking without worrying about equations or schedules or…" His words falter. "Everything."
"You don't have to apologise for that" I say gently "We all need this sometimes."
He lets out a quiet breath, a small laugh slipping out. "Even me, apparently."
We reach the stone path leading to the lab, and I can see the familiar hum of the building waiting, lights through the windows, equipment neatly stacked inside. He stiffens slightly, tension creeping back into his posture, but I stay close, letting my presence tether him.
"Whatever the result is, Noah" I murmur. "I'll be with you"
He glances up at me, lips twitching in a faint, grateful smile. "Thanks, Finn" he says softly. "For… everything. Even the walk."
I squeeze his shoulder gently. "Always" I reply.
As we step back into the lab, I feel myself tense. The walk had been so grounding, but now, standing among the hum of machines and the familiar clutter of notes and tools, reality crashes back in. I brace myself ready for Noah to collapse under another failure, to be devastated again.
I linger by the door, giving him space, and watch as he slides his goggles down over his eyes and moves toward his laptop. His fingers start tapping across the keyboard, but then he freezes, brow furrowing.
"Did it fail?" I ask softly, keeping my voice calm.
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he opens the reader and carefully pulls out the slide containing the nullifier sample.
"Erm…" he hesitates, distracted, flipping rapidly between his notebook and the laptop, scribbling calculations and typing in bursts.
Finally, he scratches the back of his head and says, almost too casually, "Yeah. It failed again."
I step closer instinctively, ready to support him, but something about his tone is different. He isn't frustrated or collapsing under the weight of it. He seems… oddly composed.
"What's wrong?" I ask, confusion threading through my calm.
He glances between the notebook and laptop, muttering to himself. "Well… it failed, but the success rate…" He pauses, fingers tapping against the desk as if he's questioning his own mind.
I watch him, waiting.
"The success rate was… 96% this time" he says, almost uncertainly.
My eyes widen. 96%. That's far beyond what he's been able to achieve for weeks usually stuck around 88–89%.
"That's… good, right?" I ask, relief creeping into my voice, but his expression makes me hesitate.
He runs a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. "Yeah… it's good. It's just I miscalculated a component of the formula. I didn't notice at first, probably because I was running on too little sleep. But going over the calculations now… it doesn't make sense that the score came out this high.
I blink, processing it. So, it failed, technically, but succeeded far beyond expectation. His calm, almost puzzled tone makes me realise just how deep into his own head he is, analyzing, recalculating, even in what should have been a moment of relief.
I step closer, hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "Noah… that's great" I murmur. "Even with the miscalculation, 96% that's progress. That's huge."
He pauses, glancing at me briefly, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Then he goes back to his notes, muttering numbers under his breath, already half-lost in the next adjustment.
I let him work, quietly. And for the first time in a while, I realise maybe this time, he's not completely consumed by failure. Maybe, just maybe, he's beginning to see how far he's actually come.