Gently, gently...

John wasn’t quite sure how today was going to go. It was the last day before Erica left for Canada, but nobody had mentioned any changes. The deal with Holly was technically over now, the redheaded woman having fulfilled whatever favour she’d come for. She was apparently sticking around today, though, to see Erica off.

He didn’t know how to feel about her leaving, either, if he was totally honest. He’d only known her a week. Hell, he’d only known any of these people for a week. Frankly speaking, the entire week had been like a crash course in how to do literally every single thing he’d been taught to avoid. Going down alleyways, getting into vans with strangers, trusting people you’ve just met, letting them take you away to stay with them for extended periods.

He’d decided a while ago that he would just not think about that, though. Otherwise, that strange tightness in his chest started up, and he didn’t have the luxury to work out whatever it was at the moment. Not with all the sudden new threats to fear and skills to learn and people to befriend and all the rest of what apparently made up the Abyss.

Still, Erica… it might be a little presumptive of him, but he’d come to view her as something like a friend? Or, at least, what he thought friends should be. Of course, he wasn’t entirely sure, he didn’t have much experience to base it on, but it definitely felt right. He didn’t really want to see her go, even if he knew her plans were laid way before he had shown up.

So, as he got ready in the bedroom they’d loaned him, he thought. He analysed, contemplated, and tried to predict how today would go. Chances were, they’d do some weapons practice, maybe some meditation, then have a final meal before she left. Sounded… depressing. Erica was such a personality that it seemed wrong she wouldn’t go out with a bang in some way. The more he thought about it, though, the worse it felt. So, before it could get out of hand, he nipped it in the bud, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind and leaving the room.

Better to just wait and see. Who knew? Maybe she’d surprise everyone somehow.

—

Turns out, she didn’t need to. Moira did it for her, of all people. They were halfway into breakfast, John marvelling over the perfectly cooked bacon as he had every morning, when the redheaded paladin cleared her throat meaningfully.

He turned his attention to her with the rest of the table, noting the hint of excitement that was showing through her carefully kept expression. Once she had the table’s attention, she said, “I have news from our knights. Thanks to some unexpected assistance, courtesy of Sir Eion,” she paused to nod her head towards Velvet, “we have been able to locate the primary location of the guild which backed your captors.”

John blinked rapidly, and wet his lips, suddenly uncomfortably aware of how dry they were. The Warden continued, “They have evaded our notice thus far, as they haven’t been directly involved in the… practical side of the operation.”

The memory flashed through John’s mind. Grey concrete, pillars casting long shadows in white industrial lighting, ragged chairs, the threadbare seatbelt tearing as- He shoved it away, back into its box. Moira didn’t seem to notice. “Instead, they work as the middle-man. They take the batteries and sell them on to the Kingpin. Apparently, it’s a common business model across the states, though some of them don’t just sell the physical batteries.”

Her eyes darkened for a moment at that, and when it clicked what she meant, John did his best not to think too hard on the ‘what-if’ that it presented, instead focusing entirely on the redhead before him as her subtle excitement returned to those bright eyes. “Regardless, we now have a location, and Eion was able to provide a clear evidence trail to grant us suitable grounds to take action against them.”

She moved her eyes from person to person at the table… which admittedly wan’t many. Aside from John and Moira, there was only Erica, Velvet, and Lord Brighton. John had been surprised when he seated himself, since the master of the house hadn’t taken his morning meal with them before. Now, it made sense, in light of the news.

Then, her eyes landed on John, and she said, “I would like you to join our strike against them today, Newman.”

“...W-what?” Something cold shifted in his stomach, but he didn’t have the time to register it as his mind fought to understand the situation around him.

“Isn’t this a bit premature?” That was Erica, he realised distantly as he fought for control of his suddenly closed throat and unresponsive voice. “John’s not even had a full week of training yet.”

“With the time dilation you were able to provide, he has had over a week by a not insignificant amount-”

“It’s still less than a quarter of the training that any squire would receive…”

“I had much the same concern, Miss Carpenter.” That was the low timbre of Lord Brighton, John could recognise, forcing his focus to the conversation and away from his recalcitrant limbs. “Yet, consider. The young man in question has experienced more than any squire would have, and he has performed admirably.

John’s chest warmed a little bit at Moira’s immediate follow-up support. “Exactly! John has seen more combat than any squire or even knight initiate. He deserves the opportunity to face those who have wronged him, Erica. You or I would want the same-”

“Maybe, but he’s not grown up with this, Moira! I-”

“Okay.”

It took him a moment, with everyone turned to face him, for John to actually fully realise that it was him who had spoken. Sure, he’d been turning it over in his mind, but he didn’t mean to speak yet. He cleared his throat, willing the little knot there to vanish. “I, uh, I get that I’m new to it but…”

’But I want to prove I deserve that support. That I’m more than I was. That I’m more than I think I am. That I’m worth what I’ve been given.’ His thoughts offered all of these reasons and more, but the one he settled on was simply to say, “I’ll be fine.”

He willed a smile to his face, trying to reassure Moira and Erica. Moira’s expression basically flooded with something happy that he couldn’t even begin to decipher before it shuttered back to her professional mask, but Erica didn’t seem so convinced. Her eyes were narrowed slightly at him, and she retained a careful bland expression.

It’d be fine, he’d have to try and find a time to reassure her. They were going with the Order, it was their mission or whatever. Plenty of people, real fighters, knights. He’d probably not even get near a fight.

The rest of breakfast wasn’t… the most comfortable time. Erica didn’t drop her carefully schooled features the rest of the time, Moira seemed to buzz with something kept under strict constraints and barely spoke because of it, Lord Brighton was quiet and endlessly polite as usual.

John was too wrapped up in his own head to really be able to engage, even if he wouldn’t have been lost with such a socially uncomfortable mood. He didn’t even notice the way Velvet’s features had dropped into a soft frown, and she hadn’t spoken a word the entire meal.

—

Apparently they didn’t need much time to organise the strike. Moira gave them an hour of prep time, after which they’d meet at the training field to the rear of the building. Since John didn’t have any equipment he needed to go get, or do maintenance on, he tagged along after Erica.

It was only when they reached the practice courtyard that he realised she didn’t have much gear to prep either, and was already in her usual outfit for fighting in the barriers. She turned to him, and pinned him with a piercing stare.

Seconds passed in silence.

“You don’t have to do this, John.”

He let a small sigh pass his lips. “It’s fine, really. I can handle it, that’s why we’ve been training so much, right?” He tried to throw a smile at her.

Clearly, it wasn’t in the slightest bit convincing, as she cut a hand through the air into her palm. “No. Don’t bother, I can tell when you’re faking.”

He dropped the smile, but not the topic. “Look, if Moira and her dad think I can do it, and that it’s all fine and safe, why don’t you? Surely-” He swallowed the lump of emotion building in his throat, not understanding why it was there when he wasn’t upset. “Surely you believe I can take care of myself? Or, at the very least, take care of myself surrounded by however many knights we’re going with?”

She narrowed her eyes, her jaw tightening. “Three squads of twelve. That’s not the issue here, John-”

“Then what is?” he cut in, a tinge of irritability pushing his words out to interrupt her. “If it’s not that you think I can’t look after myself, then what? That I’m gonna get taken again? We’ll be in the middle of thirty-something actual goddamned knights, so I don’t see how that’d work. Or maybe I’m-”

“You barely have control of your powers when it’s just me. What will you do when there’s actual people, the people who hurt you?” Her words were tight and bitten off, but her voice was thick with emotion. What mix of emotion, John didn’t much care in that moment, because all he could hear was the anger there as she spoke. “Do breathing exercises on a battlefield? Or maybe you just let loose, let it take you over? Cool, good plan. Except you’re in the middle of a bunch of those knights you mentioned. Even better, you’re next to Velvet. Good job, you’ve just hurt her and tried to attack them, and now they’re killing you because it’s the only fucking thing that can stop you. Sound like a plan, Newman?”

She seemed almost surprised by her outburst. John couldn’t fully grasp what she was saying, a dull roaring in his ears and something he couldn’t identify in his chest. Both of them paused, the tension stretching the moment out.

Then he couldn’t hold whatever it was anymore, and the words slipped out, “...You don’t trust me not- not to hurt people? To not hurt V-Velvet?” John was surprised, and then ashamed, by how hurt and broken his voice was. He saw regret flicker across the blonde’s face, but it was too much. He couldn’t deal with this, not on top of everything else. So he **** that fire, the anger, to build up. It kept him safe before, and it’d do it again.

When Erica raised a hand and opened her mouth to speak, he cut in, letting his features match the fury that he was forcing to the fore, “You know what, Erica? I was worried about you, just this morning. You’re leaving tomorrow and I was so worried about missing you. I thought-” A wave of upset crashed into him, stopping him, but it wasn’t enough, not compared to the bonfire he was frantically feeding.

“It doesn’t matter what I thought, I guess. You don’t trust me.” He realised something, and couldn’t even bring himself to laugh at the irony of it. “You’ve spent a week trying to give me confidence? Well, good job, apparently it worked. I can stand up for myself now. I can confidently tell you to go fuck yourself.”