A Devoted Following

Layla was not an oblivious woman. Years of training at the Academy and in her personal life had taught her to notice the subtle changes in behavior of others... and in herself. She had been honed to spot discrepancies, deception, and subterfuge. That training had led her to the right path more often than not, had shown her insight into human nature, and even saved her life on occasion.

However, that training had never been more frustrating than when it was directed at her by another person.

Not that Layla was being particularly subtle, especially at first. She could hardly control herself when her phone went off those first few months, and couldn't bring herself to tell Tessa what was going on. She made vague excuses and ran off, always expecting some kind of interrogation or confrontation when she returned. The confrontation never surfaced, no matter how flimsy or half-hearted Layla's explanation was as she dashed out the door. An emergency at the Academy involving one of her former professors, a special mission that required her skills, even a simple explanation that a friend needed aid... none of them elicited even the slightest question.

By the second time Layla returned home with nary a word spoken of her abrupt departure, she knew that the silence spoke volumes more than any suspicious questioning ever could.

Tessa wasn't foolish, ignorant, or outright stupid. She wasn't overly trusting, she wasn't naive or gullible... for her to be so nonchalant about Layla's repeated ventures with no valid explanation, it meant something even more damning than belief. It meant she was fully aware that Layla's story didn't add up, likely knew the nature of what was drawing Layla away... and yet she chose to say nothing. Layla didn't know whether that was because she dreaded a full confrontation, or she was simply hoping it would stop on its own – or whether she was simply willing to deal with her inner pain if it meant keeping Layla. Tessa never directly made mention of Layla's consistent and sometimes lengthy absences, but Layla could tell she was not happy about the situation.

Perhaps the most saddening part of realizing that Tessa knew what was happening... was that it made no difference in Layla's actions. Layla continued to respond instantly to every message she received those first few weeks. When John's calls grew less and less frequent, she became **** for them; the slightest vibration of her phone was enough to cause her entire body to tense and warmth to flood her most intimate place, usually followed by disappointment when it was a simple alarm, update, or unimportant text.

When the months wore on and it seemed John had completed his mission, or at least no longer had need of Layla's assistance with it, the mood shift within the house was almost directly opposed to what it had been. With Layla around the house more, never strangely missing dates, and never running off in the middle of the night, Tessa's mood was through the roof. Something of a shadow still hung over them, words unspoken from all the prior tension, but Tessa seemed satisfied enough to have their old life back.

Layla, on the other hand, was experiencing something between heartbreak, grief, and withdrawal. The feeling frustrated her as much as it saddened her. The life she had after John's departure was no different than the one she'd had only a few months ago, before she met him in the first place. So why did it feel so hollow? How had one man derailed her life so completely and without even the slightest bit of effort on his own part, save for asking help from someone he considered a friend?

John's effect could be described as mesmerizing, intoxicating, aphrodisiacal, even bordering on hallucinogenic with the way he filled her mind with daydreams. But when he wasn't around, Layla had the clarity and presence of mind to realize how strange the sudden transition seemed. She'd been happy in her life with Tessa before, never needed anything more, never even wanted anything more. Then a single taste of that aura, a moment spent glancing into those passionate eyes - a single touch, skin-to-skin, hands meeting in a void of space where nothing else could reach but love and acceptance... it had shattered her in an instant, even if she'd tried to deny it at the time. How had it done that? Layla hadn't felt like she was missing anything until the moment she met John Newman. She had been happy, content, she had a woman who loved her, and Layla surely loved Tessa.

Didn't she?

What was love? What was passion, devotion, or lust in the face of what John caused her to feel? Nothing had made her change the way she felt about Tessa. Rather, everything she felt now simply seemed to eclipse her desires for anything else. Perhaps that was why she found herself thinking about her separation from John as a withdrawal so often, why she compared the elation in her body at the mere feeling of his aura nearby to the feelings of a euphoric narcotic. Without any conscious decision from Layla, so much of her life had begun to revolve around John that his absence left a hole, where previously she would have felt entirely fulfilled by the life that now seemed so hollow.

Perhaps all of that was why Layla's mind was made up the moment she felt that familiar thrill surging through her Abyssal nervous system. Why before she even recognized the feeling coursing across her body, she was already stepping toward the door.

"Layla? ...Where ya goin'?"

The words shook Layla out of her trance, causing her to come to an abrupt stop. Her feet staggered on the well-kept carpet as she nearly lost her balance, feeling as if she were awakening in the middle of her stride. Layla stood there for a moment in a stupor. Her eyes passed over the room several times in a sweeping motion over the familiar warm tones of their wallpaper and furniture, her body and mind slowly awakening again as she glanced between the door she had been walking toward and the familiar voice of her lover.

Tessa was looking at her with a look somewhere between confusion and concern, her eyes uncertain. Her hands were gripping the armrests of the chair she sat in, unsteadily holding the satiny cloth as the book she'd been reading lay in her lap, all but forgotten. In a way, Tessa's body and posture mirrored Layla's own – tense, uncertain, wavering and emotional as a feeling coursed through her that had been absent for so long it was almost foreign, yet was too intense and resonated too strongly with her core to ever be forgotten entirely.

The largest difference was that Tessa was tense with a fear that was all too familiar. A sense of impending loss and dread that she had become far too accustomed to over the past several months... whereas Layla's body was so ecstatic and energetic she'd started toward the door without even understanding what it was she was feeling.

And as far as what she was feeling, there was no longer any mistaking it. Layla's very being had become attuned to the energy she was sensing now, the aura that was overwhelming all but her most basic and physical of senses. No doubt remained in her mind, despite how impossible it seemed.

John was back in Springfield... and judging by the signature of his aura, he was on the move. His signature had spiked for a moment, then faded, then risen again. He seemed to be moving in and out of Barriers, far enough away that Layla couldn't pinpoint his exact location, but she could tell that he was somewhere within the city... but for how long? Already, he was moving toward the edges of Springfield – and since she hadn't been consciously aware when she started to feel his signature, she had no idea how much further he could go before she'd lose track of him again... and for how long this time? Days? Weeks? Months?

"Lay-lay... what's up?" Tessa asked, the tone of her voice wavering and uncertain. Yet despite that hesitation, Layla could already hear the resignation in her voice.

"S-sorry, Tess... something just came up, I need to-"

"You're goin' to see her again, ain'tcha? Or him, whichever. You've told me so many diff'rent stories I don't even know if it's just one person..."

"Tess, it's not like that, I-"

"Can it," Tessa said, sighing as she slammed the covers of her book closed and stood in one smooth motion. "I'm just... Lay-Lay... Layla, I'm so tired of this. I can't start this up again."

"It's not starting anything, I- it's only going to be a little while, maybe a few days," Layla said, her body already turning toward the door by its own will once more.

Tessa shook her head slowly. The look on her face made it clear that the only reason this hadn't turned into a shouting match was that Tessa had already given up the fight weeks ago.

"Layla, I'd fight the world for ya. I'd reach into the deepest, darkest hole and pull ya free from the lowest depths of hell justa see that smile of yours. But I can't do that if you're down there diggin' it even deeper, pullin' yourself away as fast as I pull ya in. I tried to be better for you, tried to fix whatever is wrong, but I need you to tell me what changed. What's wrong?"

Layla didn't know what to say. Nothing was wrong, nothing had changed. Layla still wanted to be with Tessa, which was why she'd gone on for so long with this charade and the awkward excuses. Layla still loved Tessa.

"It doesn't matter... I can't help ya if ya don't wanna be helped, Layla," Tessa said, shaking her head. "Come up to bed, Lay-Lay... or don't. But if ya walk out that door, don't bother comin' back."

Tessa turned and slowly walked away. Perhaps she was trying to hold herself together... perhaps she was waiting for Layla to run up behind her, lift her up, and carry her away. For things to go back to normal in an instant, the way they should have months ago.

But Layla did none of those things. She stood there and watched silently as Tessa crossed their living room and ascended the stairs toward their shared bedroom. Then she turned toward the door, more hesitantly than before... and began to march forward once more.

Because it was true.

Layla still loved Tessa.

But Layla needed John.

"...once I was on the road, it was just a matter of keeping pace with you. I thought you would be going for more Albidians at first, a cell of them that had remained hidden, but there weren't any of them this far west. I thought about turning back, but I was concerned for you."

"Concerned? Never seen someone go on vacation before?" John asked, quirking an eyebrow. The situation in the room had calmed down rather quickly once both sides realized who they were up against. John had Healed the knife wound on Arista and his natural regen had taken care of his own injury, while Layla had frantically begun explaining how and why she was there.

"John, the Abyss is-"

"-a dangerous, dark, or terrible place, yes, I'm familiar," John said, reaching up to rub his temples at the annoyingly familiar collection of phrases. "Which is exactly why you should go home."

Layla's arrival here had greatly complicated things – returning to their world at night was a risk due to people specifically like Layla, aura readers or other sensory mages who might notice the sudden vanishing act... but it kept them safe from all sorts of dangers while they were gone, with the only real risk coming at the exact moment of their return in case of an ambush.

"I can help," Layla said immediately, nodding. "I know that look in your eyes, John. You're on a mission."

"I- I am, but..." John bit his lip, trying to come up with a better response than it not being safe. Layla had never been deterred by danger when it came to helping him, and somehow she'd been determined enough to cross multiple state lines to follow him without even knowing his mission...

"Come on, you know it's true! You didn't even know I was following you, John," Layla pointed out. "You need to be sure that you're safe. I can keep you safe, but you have to keep me close."

John's eyebrows narrowed, and before he could stop himself, his vision flickered to Vallya, who was looking surprisingly bashful in the corner. Her nine tails flicked back and forth across her body, hiding her face from view as she leaned against the alabaster wallpaper. When she saw John's gaze passing over her, Vallya averted her eyes and covered her face with yet another tail, hiding her head away entirely save for a few stray locks of blonde hair.

"Yes... it's true, we didn't know you were following us," John emphasized, before returning his gaze to Layla. He couldn't come up with a better answer without explaining too many details of his own powers to be comfortable, so he went with the tried and true classics. "But it's too dangerous. I can't let you come with us, I already asked too much of you with regards to hunting the Albidians – I wouldn't have, if I had any other choice."

"I don't care if it's dangerous, I want to help," Layla insisted. "Please, John. If I was worried about the danger, I would never have followed you out of Springfield."

"...Why are you so eager to help me, Layla? I've never even really done anything for you."

The question sounded suspicious – and true, to some extent John was rather skeptical of just how willing she was to put her own life on the line for his goals, time and time again. But really he was mostly awed. Layla and John had only met a handful of times before she was risking her life fighting by his side... and now she'd followed him across the country, not by request but of her own free will.

"You have a good heart," Layla said, with a voice so honest John almost could have believed her. "I know you've been hurting over the last year, but I can still see it in you. I would have been there for you, you know... if you didn't keep disappearing off the face of the earth."

She avoided saying it outright, but John assumed that Layla knew about his private world. He still wasn't sure exactly what data had made it off the salvaged harddrive from Trisha's drone, but whether she knew the exact details or not, Layla surely knew where he disappeared to when he became impossible to sense.

"Lots of people have good hearts. Moira has a good heart. Kim has a good heart. Why not help the Order, or the Moon Clan?"

John thought for just a moment that a shadow flickered across Layla's face when he mentioned Moira's name... and he knew it did when he called out the Order.

"You're special. I told you, I knew it from the first time I sensed that aura of yours. I felt something in there, though I'm still trying to figure it out. I want to help you, John."

It was a dangerous, possibly outright bad idea. John wasn't going to let Layla into his private world. He didn't trust her enough – or anyone else, for that matter - which meant that she'd be left behind every time they stopped, which was already too often for John's tastes. And because she was there, he was going to have to stay himself. He wouldn't leave Layla alone, both for her sake and because if someone tracked her and was able to subdue her, he didn't want to be caught off-guard on their return.

"Layla, you don't even know what we're doing," John said, sighing as he sat down next to her on the bed. The mattress shifted with the added weight and Layla slid gently across the sheets – just enough for them to touch, for John to feel the moment that her entire body tensed at once. "How can you be so eager for a mission you don't even know the purpose of?"

Layla's body remained tense. John could see her wiggling back and forth subtly – as if she couldn't decide whether to stand or to press herself closer. But though her breathing had become unusually heavy, Layla's voice was resolute as she spoke through gritted teeth.