Unspoken

"I do not wish to discuss this, Father. It will help nothing," Sophia whispered, her voice battling to remain stable as she replaced the blade into its sheath and returned both to the case.

"Well, I want to. And I don't think that leaving it unspoken is helping much either." John kept his words gentle, but he remained firm and steady in his posture, trying to project the leader that she always viewed him as. "I was willing to give you your space, since it was obvious you didn't want to talk about it, but things can't stay this way. I don't like feeling so distant from you. And I know you. So I know you don't like that this is interfering with our relationship or our ability to train and fight together."

"P-please, Father." Sophia's lips trembled, her tanned skin paling slightly with a terror that was especially jarring to see on the face of his bravest creation. Only the most grievous of his wounds had ever brought such fear to the harpy's face. "I do not wish to speak on this matter. And I beg of you, do not order me to do so either."

"I wouldn't order you to do anything against your will," John vowed, scooting a little closer, putting his hand on the ground between them, offering himself to her. "But I want to help you, if I can. At the very least, I want to make sure you know that you can trust me."

"I trust you with my life, Father, and the lives of every member of our flock. That has not changed. I swear it."

"Then why are you so afraid of talking to me?" John kept his hand outstretched as he spoke, but didn't intrude on the guarded woman's space. "I don't care if you have secrets, Sophia. We all do. But I never want you to be afraid of me, or to think you have to hide things from me out of fear of the consequences."

Sophia's eyes drifted to his hand, her palms now locked together in her lap. One pinky stretched out toward him of its own volition before Sophia snatched it back and drew herself in even more tightly.

"I am not afraid of you, Father. Or... not of some punishment you might inflict on me for my transgressions. Were this a simple matter of having done something wrong, having hurt the flock, I would bear whatever punishment was owed me."

"Then what are you afraid of?"

"That... that I cannot fix what is wrong with me," Sophia whispered. Her frame shrank in on itself, cowering from the world. "That whatever punishment awaits, even after it has been doled out, I will still have failed you. And you will hate me for it."

"Sophia. Whatever is going on, I swear, I would never-"

"Do not swear to what you cannot possibly understand!"

Time came to a standstill. Sophia's eyes met his, and the two of them sat like that for an eternity. There was no new understanding, no processing, only the echo of what had been done. For all that they had been through, for all the times she had lectured him, not once could John remember ever hearing Sophia scream at him in that manner.

"F-forgive me. I am... more broken than even I-"

"If you will not let me promise that I will not hate you," John began, his voice quiet, but strong enough to overpower her pleading whimpers, "then at least accept this much—we are not leaving this Barrier until I know what is causing you so much pain, Sophia. I won't order you to tell me. I'll wait as long as it takes. And once you tell me, we will leave here together, and I will still love you just the same as before. You are my daughter. No **** on any world could change that."

Black locks of hair shivered in tandem with the tremors of the face they framed. Each second dragged by as Sophia returned to silence, her tears falling quietly in the otherworldly stillness of the Barrier.

"If you ask me to, I will leave. It is the only way I know to fix this."

"Sophia, I'm not-"

Sophia slowly raised a hand, a gesture for peace, a submission of sorts.

"It is not something I expect you to have considered. But if you have before I finish... then I will go without question, without fight."

Sophia took in a deep breath smoothly, and released it in a jittery sort of terror, a stuttering tremble of fear before calm returned to her.

"This is something that has been happening to me for quite some time, now. A few months, at the very least. But it has been slow, subtle, insidious, and I had not realized just how far I have strayed from my place until recently. My behavior has been erratic and out of line, my performance lackluster, and I have taken liberties of you that I had no right to."

"Sophia, I haven't noticed anything out of line until this started. All that I'm worried about is how hard you've been on yourself," John protested, trying to reassure her. "If anything, lately you've been trying to take care of me, in ways that-"

"Father, please." Sophia's eyes twisted shut, her head wrenching away from him in shame. Her breathing became faster and shallower as she pulled herself back from him, eyes searching for an exit, but her body remaining in place. Her hands balled into **** fists, and her legs clenched so hard that John heard something pop in her knees. "This is difficult enough for me without you reminding me of my failures!"

John swallowed the words he'd yet to speak. He did not understand her plight, or what he'd said to upset her. But that was just further reason for him to stop speaking, and to hear her out. He offered a silent nod, one that Sophia didn't see, but seemed to understand his acknowledgment in the quiet that took the room once more.

"I have always strived to be the most loyal, most eager member of your flock. To serve you as a Father of your caliber deserves. That was all I ever wanted. And it was enough, until... until Mother died."

John kept himself still, his expression stony. Sophia cracked one of her eyes open again, eagle eyes piercing through the wetness to inspect his face. For all his efforts, it was as if she could see the lingering weight upon his shoulders, the cold stream that poured down his spine.

"Were it only grief, I could bear it in silence. But it is not grief that has shaken me so. Were this a normal flock, had others the same drive that moves me now, I could suppress what has been happening for long enough that another might do what I cannot. And were you a less wonderful man, a less perfect Father, I might have the steel in my heart to do what must be done, no matter the harm it brought you, for the sake of the flock."

John's mouth went dry as each word added to the understanding growing within him. Vocal and reactive as ever, John reached for words, despite his resolution to remain silent—and came up empty, his mind too busy re-running Sophia's admission to find a response.

"But it is not, they are not, and I am not. I have only ever known things the way they are, and I would not change them for the world. You are my Father, they are my family, and yet... and yet…"

The soft patter of teardrops echoing on the wooden floor was just barely audible over the tremble of Sophia's voice. Her fingers clenched at her thighs, nails drawing blood as an uncontrolled whimper escaped her lips.

"And yet my body demands more. It tells me that you need a partner. A suitable one, to lead, to guide, and to protect you as you protect us. It yearns to have your children, to raise and bear them as new members of the flock. It demands—" Sophia choked for a moment, a bitten-off squeal escaping her, face twisted with shame and agony that ran deep, "—it demands that I take her place in the flock. That this flock needs a Mother as much as it needs you."

As the words left her, Sophia exhaled the last of the breath she'd **** herself to take, quietly panting with the exertion of forcing the confession out at last. The house and the Barrier were warm, but she could do naught but shiver, her eyes cast down so far that John couldn't see her expression at all. Only the long raven locks framing her distraught frame, reaching toward the floor as if tracing the path of the tears still flowing freely, pooling on the wooden boards below.

"You should hate me. You must hate me now." For all the overwhelming emotions she could no longer hide, her words were calm, factual. "I know the truth of your feelings. I saw how much you loved her. And I felt the pain in your heart, heard the things you said to that man. Mother was the dearest thing to you in this entire world, and no one can ever replace her. Yet I cannot still these feelings, this drive within me. Even if I were to ask for a device such as the one Lerianna wears, I would still know that these feelings exist, that my body is betraying me. My very being betrays you, Father. You should hate me. Because I know that I do."

For a breath, there was silence, save for the fluttering whimpers that Sophia could not quite fully subdue. The quietest of rustling, the sound of clothing shifting came—and then Sophia gasped, her exclamation half-quieted as her throat closed around it. John wrapped his arms around Sophia tightly, willing his body to stillness, to be as steady as possible as he powerfully pulled the larger woman against his chest and held her there with all his might.

Sophia finally raised her fallen head, eyes widening as she found herself tucked protectively into John's shoulder. Her hands instinctively slid to his sides and ghosted over his shirt, seeming startled to feel his body so close to her own.

"F-Father?"

The word was sorrow and hope, warbled out in a tone that would shatter at the mildest prod. John tilted his head and pressed his cheek against Sophia's own, hardly noticing the warm wetness that smeared across his cheek as he pulled her more tightly to him.

"I understand why you were so worried now," John began quietly, whispering the words nearly directly against her ear, "and that's my fault. I'm sorry for... for a great many things, Sophia. What you heard, what you felt, it was real. I can't deny any of that. It felt like everything had changed that day. Seras was…"

John hesitated, none of the words feeling right in his mouth. It wasn't that he loved Seras so much more than the others, or that she was more important, or anything so crass and insulting to all the others. Every member of his family, be they creation or ally, was important to him.

"Seras was like me." Simple, perhaps overly generalized, but more accurate than anything else he could've said. "Tossed into this world from what used to be a mundane life. New places, new faces, new concepts of reality. Seras came into my life while I was still figuring myself out, and we learned about magic and the Abyss together. She'd been there since just a few days after I got my powers, and as short of a time as we really had, it felt like we were meant to walk this path together, maybe forever."

A **** swallow cleared the blockage in John's throat as best as he could manage, his voice crumbling as he continued.

"And then, when she died... I didn't just lose her. I lost a part of myself. Our shared future just vanished, and I felt like I'd been left behind to walk it alone." A breath passed, John's eyes screwing shut. Bitterness and anger filled his mouth, a taste of regret, of foolish mistakes and blind selfishness.

"But that wasn't fair. Not to any of you, or even to her. Seras and I had a connection that's hard to explain, but that only made our relationship shine brighter, it never diminished what I have with any of you. I was just too overcome by grief to see that. I said and did terrible things, trying to staunch that feeling, trying to rid myself of the pain I felt by sharing it with the world. But it never went away. I just created more of it. And now I've got you thinking I've fallen so far that I could actually hate you. I have truly failed if I ever let you believe that for a moment."

"Father, this is not your failure. It's mine," Sophia pleaded. She didn't pull away, her fingers clutching at his sides firmly enough to dig in slightly, her face buried in his neck and breathing in his scent like a ****. "I've lost control of my hormones, my instincts, even parts of my mind. My body drives me toward betrayal, urges me to hurt you in wretched, inhuman ways. All for the sake of something I should never have, should never even want to have!"

"You were right, Sophia. No one can ever replace Seras."

John lifted one of his hands to the back of Sophia's head, taking a tender grip on the harpy's skull, his fingers laced through her long locks. He gently caressed the roots of her hair as he urged her back from him ever so slowly, allowing her time to come to terms with their parting. With his other hand he reached to caress her sharp features, feeling the clench of her jaw, the wet of her cheeks. John made a wish, prayed that he could share just some small part of the joys and sorrows he felt in that moment with her. Then they finally separated enough for her eyes, flickering halfway between gold and crimson, to meet his own.

"No one could ever replace any of you. You're each so special and wonderful to me in your own ways that were I to spend the next hundred years Purifying creatures in your image, I could never create a single one that would be worthy to take your place, or that of anyone else's in our bizarre, wonderful little family. I'm sorry that I haven't done a better job of conveying to you just how intensely I feel about you all, about how lucky I am. I think about it most every day, Sophia."

"Father…" Sophia called the name out like a plea. She wavered unsteadily, fingers fidgeting for balance against the wooden floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as his title slipped over her lips.

"Let me start now. Let me tell you just a little of how I feel." John lowered the hand still resting on the back of Sophia's head, letting it wander down her body. He traced the hard lines of her amazonian physique, stopping only to briefly circle the area he knew her wings lay dormant. "Sophia, you are strong, graceful, powerful, and loyal most of all. You shared your wings with me when I could not fly alone. You stood by my side when I made decisions that others would have called me a fool for making. You are my daughter, my champion, my hero. You have saved my life from our enemies... and from myself."

Though she was the silent one, Sophia mirrored the swallow that John took, as if their emotions truly were linked as intensely as their gazes. John lowered his hand from her face to rest on her shoulder, ensuring that he could see all of her expression, that he could burn into his mind the pain etched in her face. The pain he had **** her to endure in silence by his own cowardice, no matter how well-intentioned.

"And I know where this mistake started. I've been terrified of saying this again for far too long." John licked his lips, a bashful blush coming to his cheeks as his eyes fell away from her in shame for just an instant. "Because I was afraid that saying it again meant losing one of you would hurt even more. I convinced myself that all of you already knew how I felt. But that doesn't mean it didn't need to be said. So...

"Sophia Newman. I love you. I never stopped, and I never will. Every day with you by my side is a blessing from Gaia. Please, Sophia, never doubt that I-"

John's declaration, fragile as his voice already was, shattered completely as the harpy's body collided with his own. Sophia launched herself at him hard enough to throw them both to the ground, her arms clinging to him, her fingers flexing over the muscles of his back firmly, as if she were ensuring that this was real, that he wouldn't disappear or fade away beneath her.

"Father! Father, I love you!" Sophia cried out, the words loud enough to be understood over the warbles and breaks of her jubilant voice. "Thank you. I do not deserve you. Please, forgive me for ever doubting you!"

John remained quiet as the moments dragged on, letting Sophia's tension release itself bit by bit, and trying his best to compose himself. His throat was starting to quiver, his eyes burned from how hard he had to work to wrench them open, and when he first tried to speak, little more than a quiet whimper emerged. But as Sophia's energy slowly subsided, as the fear and relief mingled and faded into a numb appeasement, he eventually managed a few words.

"And, Sophia? You've always taken the flock and its structure more seriously than the rest of us," John began, his voice quiet again, now that Sophia's head was tucked so closely into his chest. "Not because we don't respect your view, but because we weren't raised with it. It isn't ingrained as closely as it is for you, and we lack your instincts. But I understand how strongly you feel, and why this has hurt you so much to suppress. You don't need to hide it anymore, you don't have to keep pretending. If you decide that you want me to, I can ask Tricia to help subdue those instincts, the same way she did with Lerianna."

"I... I will manage them, Father. Merely knowing that you will not hate me if I allow them to slip through is a greater relief than any that technology could provide." Sophia's fingers danced along his chest. A weary, joyful smile played across her lips, not wavering even as she discussed the feelings she could not control. She was every bit the woman John had come to love once more, and even more resilient for it.

"I wasn't finished. Lerianna always hated her feelings. You only feared them, or at best, rejected them out of a sense of obligation." John toyed with a strand of Sophia's hair, and as he paused, she lifted her head slightly. Curiosity shimmered in her eyes, with threads of crimson awe woven between the laces of gold. "If you decide that you don't mind them, that you'd rather fulfill them, then... that's okay too. There will be time after the war, however hectic it may be. If you decide you do truly want a child, I would be honored—no, blessed! I would be blessed to have a child with you, Sophia."

The glimmers of crimson shifted forward, blossoming and filling the space of Sophia's eyes. Her mouth fell open, a feeble protestation only managing to emerge as a creaking mewl.

"And, although I did just say that we do not see things the way that you do..."

It was madness. The sort of thing that he might've expected to have hallucinated in his darkest moments. But for just the briefest instant, as John lay there with Sophia pressed against him and whispered his consolations to her, it was as if there were a third set of arms joining the embrace. Wrapping and protecting them both.

"If the way you've been acting is out of some instinct driving you to become a new leader in the flock, to stand by my side, watch over me, and guide me when I lose myself? No one would chastise you for that. I've appreciated your openness, your willingness to take a firm hand with me, more than I can express. And Sophia, know that if Seras were here... I promise you, there is no one she would be more delighted to see take the title of 'Mother' than the one who gave it to her."

"F-F-Fa..." Sophia's lips trembled too much to form the words. She tried to lift her head, but fought against herself, not wanting to leave the comfort of his body.

"Mother would be proud of you, Sophia. Just as proud as your Father is."

No attempt was made at words, this time. Only an extended, keening wail, as months of repression and anxiety at last were free to be released. Sophia sobbed openly, all traces of stoicism gone. It was a painful and beautiful sight, one John wasn't sure he'd ever get to see again. One he would memorize and treasure, even as he swore to never let it happen again.

"Go ahead, Sophia," John murmured gently, both hands resting atop her head, massaging her scalp and occasionally giving her raven locks a long, languid caress. "No more hiding. No more pretending. It's okay. You can cry now."