-Chuck Palahniuk

John turned toward Tricia and Seras, uncertain where to begin. Tenderly, John walked to his blonde love, laying a hand across her chest where a hole in her new clothes still resided.

"I'm gonna have to go buy you some new clothes, when this is all over…"

"S-sorry, I just keep ruinin' 'em," Seras mumbled, rubbing at her hair shyly.

"I don't care," John wheezed, throwing himself at her and wrapping his arms around her body. Seras' soft chest bounced against his own as they hit the wall, and John did his best to steady his staggering breaths when he spoke again.

"When I saw her go for your chest, when I… I thought that you were going to die."

"I… I did too," Seras admitted, shrugging, "not that there was much I could do about it. When she left, the ice started to melt… and so did I. Um, what was that all about? I didn' really- it's hard to explain, like I was- I just kinda came back together, naked! I 'ad to put my clothes back on, after I made sure you were still breathin'. Um, I don't really remember that part from the vampire stuff."

"It's… complicated," John said without explaining at all, "but we'll go over that soon. You're absolutely - one-hundred percent - okay though?"

"I mean… yeah. Kinda shocked meself, to be honest. Little 'ungry, but aside from that I feel fine."

"As long as I know that, that's enough. I'm gonna talk to Tricia before she leaves. Then we can go over your new body and… see about getting you something to eat."

"I'm a really shitty master," John noted mentally, groaning at yet another thing he hadn't prepared Seras for. He'd been disturbed enough the first few times his body knitted itself together - he couldn't imagine melting into a pile of shadows and reforming. How had that felt? What had it been like? Was Seras even in control and had to figure out how to do it, or were her abilities more or less on autopilot since she was unaware of their extent?

"Hey, Tricia," John began, uncertain how to approach the busy researcher. Tricia glanced only briefly his way, but it was enough to startle John. He was used to her dead-eyed gaze by this point, but this time there wasn't even a glimmer of recognition. Her eyes were dilated and only paused long enough on John's face to let him know she had recognized another human at all.

"I am sorry, John Newman, but my duties to the Order require a hasty examination of this area before the remaining magical materials diffuse entirely into the environment. If I am unable to process-"

"What happened with you and Moira back there?" John asked, glancing over. "I've heard her call you a lot of things, but… you looked really hurt by what she said, and she didn't even seem apologetic. I know she's been really stressed out lately, and that you're-"

"I am fine," Tricia said, as if that answered all of John's implied questions.

"I… really don't think so."

"Allow me to correct that statement then - I am as fine as I can be given the events which have transpired."

"You've been withdrawing," John noted, getting no response. Tricia continued tapping away at the holographic keyboard, several sources of feedback flashing in front of her far too complicated for John to even begin understanding beyond reading a few labels and titles.

"My offer still stands, you know. You could come back with me to-"

"To your private, pocket world - a place which I still have no method of communication either to or from, cannot leave of my own volition, and which according to my drones is disturbingly small - far beyond what would be sustainable for permanent living without your constant trips into this realm, last I visited. Any trips to this world would, of course, involve you interacting with Moira, who would almost certainly figure out where I had gone and why, and would deteriorate your relationship… perhaps to the point of her imprisoning you."

"She wouldn't-"

"At which point I would be trapped in a realm that no one present is capable of modifying, without the ability to harvest materials from Barriers as you have, left alone surrounded by creatures… longing for your return, wallowing in sadness, waiting for the sweet mercy of starvation or the ignorance of insanity brought on by some sort of mental breakdown as I contemplate the kinds of **** and experimentation Moira has subjected you to."

Tricia's words were delivered at an even tempo, but Tricia's fingers stopped. Her eyes were frozen to the screen in a single place, and her breathing had picked up. One of the drones halfheartedly perked up, scanning over Tricia's form.

"What… what happened between you two? Tricia, you've got some strong emotions, and I've never seen you hate or distrust anyone like Moira. Moira… she told me a little of what happened. About that mission-"

Tricia's thousand-yard stare broke down, her eyes darting around as if she were uncertain where to look. They flickered over the monitors, John, Seras, and the ceiling above her before settling on a look of shame that was directed toward John but refused to meet his gaze.

"…I ask little of you, John Newman. Not your trust, not your respect, not even your affection or tolerance. All I ask is that you never mention this again."

"…No."

Tricia's eyes opened just a fraction wider, but before she could must some startled exclamation, John sighed and gave one final shrug.

"I'm tired of… being kept in the dark. Of having people twice as strong as me come and kick my ass. I said I'd start trying to get stronger, and for a little while that was enough. Seras and I managed to take on a whole squadron of Cabal. Then Himiko shows up and frightens away even Moira, leaves me feeling like a fucking infant again. I know keeping secrets is a long way from beating the shit out of me, but honestly, Tricia, I'm just… so incredibly tired of being taken advantage of. Please, if I can't help you and Moira repair this gap, just let me know what went wrong between you two. I need to understand something about the world around me."

John wasn't sure whether his pleading was effective or not for a long moment. Truthfully, he had no right to intrude on the feud between the two women - John scarcely knew Tricia in a non-professional setting, and he had lost what little trust he had with Moira. Still, the Gorbachev hesitated from telling John to fuck off, her entire body shaking for a brief moment before a shuddering breath calmed her tremors.

"I… I did not intend to deceive you, John. I only wished to conceal my shame."

"I'm not angry at you for lying, or for not telling me what was happening. I just want to know what I'm putting myself in the middle of." Tricia glanced at John with a look of skepticism, but when he met her gaze openly, Tricia eventually relented, sighing and turning her eyes back to the ground.

"I'm sure of what Moira told you… and every bit of it is true. I was nothing more than a combat medic when that mission began. Moira assigned me as such because I had already proved unstable on the front lines. I had never caused such major problems before, but she was determined to put my unnatural skills to use. If I were being honest, she seemed hell-bent on finding some purpose for me. Whatever her reasoning… under the stress of real combat, it proved insufficient. As the Forgotten Legion pushed past the Order's failing front lines, they harmed me and my patient, as well as damaging my suit."

"I get that… but Moira had to know that-"

"It was twenty-seven percent."

"What?"

Tricia glanced away, turning her eyes to the corner. Abandoning her monitors, Tricia had cast her gaze into the corner and wrapped her arms around herself. When John asked his questions, she turned her face downward and her body away from him.

"My suit lost twenty-seven percent functionality when it was injured by the counter-attack, due to a combination of the decrease in available nanites and the rerouting of multiple processes to protect me from a puncture wound inflicted by a broken rib on my right lung. That twenty-seven percent loss was enough to override my basic human moralities, bring my conscious mind to the point of being barely sapient, and **** my most basic instincts to the top tier of my mental processes. I have an IQ that most mundane humans would consider beyond genius-level; some of my inventions have altered the Abyssal world and would revolutionize the mortal realm. I have solved mysteries that eluded the Gorbachevs for decades. But…"

Tricia was crying now, openly - the air around her wobbled as a barrier began to form and expand. This one did not explode outward, displace anything around her, or even come close to touching John or Seras. It simply existed as Tricia leaned back against the wall and curled up slightly, wrapping her arms loosely around her knees as she sank to the ground.

"But just twenty-seven percent of my control being lost, letting through twenty-seven percent of what I really am turned me into a monster. Do you understand now, John Newman? I hate Moira, I hate the way she treats those around her and the way that she speaks about my family. But no matter how it hurts, I cannot hate her for the way that she treats me. Because as far as I am concerned… she is right."

The last word was only whispered, but it echoed with enough **** to knock Tricia to her knees and shatter a piece of John. Tricia seemed so heartbroken, even though it was something she had admitted to herself. John wondered if she'd ever admitted it - ever spoken the words out loud like that.

"What about your eyes?" John asked, slowly approaching Tricia, uncertain if he was even welcome in the presence of such a moment. "You said when you opened that second eye-"

"A foolish dream of a foolish girl. The chances of my stunted development reaching a final conclusion after so long are nearly non-existent. It took me almost two decades of life and several traumatizing moments for me to open just two eyes. At the rate I am progressing, Gorbachev development will not finalize until I am seventy years old - and at the rate I am progressing, I will surely not be allowed to live that long."

John slammed his knee into the carpet perhaps just a little harder than he intended, for Tricia glanced up, briefly startled from her sadness.

"What have we done to deserve this world?"

John couldn't have said where his concerns came from - how he felt comparable to a girl who had lost her family, her freedom, and even her hope over years of war and suffering. He couldn't say that going on two weeks of confusion and angst had left him in anywhere near the mental state she was. But, all the same… John felt a connection to Tricia, weak as it was. They had both been blessed, both been cursed, with magic that they had not chosen. Magic that was looked down upon, magic that should not have existed by the opinion of a woman they both chose to mockingly call friend.

Perhaps what John was afraid to believe - afraid to even think - was that it was her eyes that he most identified with. Not the strange, mystical ones that covered her body as she cast her spells, but the terrified and grieving eyes of a woman so far gone she could hardly remember what having a dream felt like. John saw himself in those eyes. He saw what his own gaze might look like after ten or twelve more years of war, ****, and berating by those who saw him as an abomination.

"Tricia, you've done… you've done nothing wrong but be born," John said, emphasizing her name to convince himself he was not speaking for both of them. "Your powers, your abilities, and even many of your actions are all the result of influences outside your control. You've advanced science, saved lives, and given your all to make yourself and those around you better. You shouldn't be wallowing here, afraid for your freedom - for your life! It isn't fair!"

"The Abyss is many things. Cold, cruel, remorseless… fair has never been one of them, and it never will be. The balance of power across even a tiny fraction of the world is so skewed that it never can be."

"It should, and if it isn't… this world doesn't deserve you, Tricia. I'm going to- I'm going to make my world into a place you'd want to be! A place that's fair, a place where good people get good things, bad people get punished, and where you don't spend your entire life worrying about what someone else might do if you slip up!"

"I thought my dreams were foolish, but…" Tricia sniffled, rubbing at her nose. The air wavered around her still, banishing the outside as those magical eyes flickered in and out of existence along her arms. "John Newman, you have the abilities required to do something like that, but you have no idea the willpower required. You have no idea the depths of human depravity. Unless your creations are as pure as your technique would suggest, your world is no safer than this one."

"Then I will make it safer," John swore, pounding his fist into the ground. "I don't have the power or the armies to make this world the way it should be… but I can start over. If this world ever becomes too much to bear, I'll make sure my own is a place worth living in on its own. I'll make sure it's a respite, a haven, a place that one should want to be, not a place one flees to when all is lost."

Tricia's eyes blinked rapidly a few times, her thoughts mulling over what John was saying. Hesitatingly, she raised up one arm and reached toward John's jawline. The barrier around her flickered, subconscious battling with conscious - and for an instant, Tricia's conscious mind won out, as the repulsive field dissipated and allowed her fingertips to brush against John's left cheek.

"If you could do that… if you could make a place that feels like home, a place away from the madness and carnage of this world, I would owe you a very great debt, John Newman."

As she said that, Tricia's eyes welled up and the eyes on her forearm reignited, pushing John back from her hand. Tricia looked ashamed and immediately resigned herself to her pose, drones still hovering around uselessly while bleeping on occasion.

"Master, are you sure about this?" Seras asked as John rose and stepped away. "Doesn't really seem like a refugee camp was what you 'ad in mind when you told me you wanted to build the place up."

"I'm absolutely certain," John said with a nod as Seras approached him. "I told you before that I wanted to make a home… I just didn't realize how many people needed one besides us."

"You know," Seras began after a moment, her eyes travelling away from John and back in time, "when I was at the Academy, everyone always made funna me. Told me that you couldn' save everyone, an' that I was silly for tryin'. But I never stopped tryin', ‘cause at the end of the day… it's not important who you lose. It just matters whether you tried."

"Seras, I," John stammered, opening his eyes a little bit, "where did that come from?"

She shrugged, almost noncommittally. John couldn't help the bark of laughter that escaped from him as he threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around her.

"I know I've dumped a lot on you, but Seras… I'm so glad I have you. I hope that I can spend every day of the rest of my life learning about all there is to you."

As John embraced the cold-yet-loving flesh of his vampiress, his eyes locked on a window that floated just over her shoulder.

Storyline Quest Completed!
Storyline: Warden and the Watcher Finished!
Rewards:
+5,000 EXP!
+10 Charisma!
+1 Golden Agate Talisman
+1 Golden Rose Insignia
+War Completion Rewards

Level Up!
John has reached levels 11, 12, & 13!
+9 All Stats
+3 Skill Points
Max Level Reached!
+2 Skill Points