Domestic Dispute

John closed the door to his apartment with a loud thump. It had been harder than he meant to, but he was too tired to care. It was half past six and he was already ready to collapse onto his bed and cuddle with Red to sleep. But as much as he would love to just call it a day, he still had shit to do. John paused and opened the two new quests he’d acquired today.

He had four missing souls to find, and there was no telling how long he had to find them. There was obviously someone or something intelligent behind the invention of Rapture, but what exactly they wanted with souls was unknown. Hopefully it wasn’t just to eat them immediately and they were still ‘alive’ or whatever term is best applied to a soul.

Unsurprisingly, Sam and Chelsea had a multitude of questions for him. He’d done his best to get them up to speed on things, but there was bound to be stuff he missed. In the end he’d ordered them an Abyss 101 book off the Abyss Auction to pour through so he could just go home. It’d probably do a better job at explaining stuff than him anyway.

He trudged through the living room, noting that all the lights were off save for a sliver illuminating from underneath a closed bedroom door. ‘I guess it was too much to hope I’d come home to Red making dinner,’ he sighed and reached for the door handle. It was locked.

“Red? What the hell?” he called through the door. Of course he was met with sullen silence. “Why’s this door locked?” he tried again.

“Because I locked it, jackarse,” she responded petulantly after a short moment.

John breathed in deeply. He really didn’t have time for this. Why was she even angry?! “What’s the problem?” he tried in the most placid tone he could manage.

“Are you kidding?!” her muffled shout gave him a slight startle. “You used your powers on me! And you sent me away! Do you have any idea how that looked? You made it out like I was in the wrong! Like I was the one being a bitch. You’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to stand with me!”

“Seriously?” John groaned. “You know I don’t think that. I was just trying to avoid the possibility of further conflict.”

“Oh really?! I know, do I? Because I’m sure I was firmly against leaving and it was your ‘persuasion’ that tricked me into leaving! How dare you, John Newman! How bloody dare you use your fucking powers on me to win an argument.”

“Alright, you’re right, I shouldn’t have done that,” John conceded. “Will you please let me in?”

“Gosh, your sincerity is melting my heart,” Red replied sardonically, her tone causing John to unwittingly grate his teeth together.

His attempt at amiableness was slipping off course fast. “Well, it’s hard when there’s a fucking door between us!”

“If I open this door, you’ll just ‘persuade’ me you’re right again!” she shot back with twice as much anger.

“I am sorry. What more do you want from me?!” he demanded.

He once again was met with sullen silence. The more it dragged on, the more frustrated he grew. “Alright fine,” he snarled at the woodwork. “I don’t have time for this. I need to visit Lorelei. Oh, by the way, those girls had their souls stolen and I need to find them. I was going to ask if you wanted to come, but I guess you don’t. See you later.”

John turned quickly on his heels and stormed out of the house on an empty stomach. Organising a lift to Moira’s place was easy enough given the multitude of Order agents working in the apartment building. John decided to stop at a diner along the way and treated himself and his escort to a burger and fries. Not long after he was stepping onto the grand patio of the Brighton’s gothic manor. At night, with its grey stone walls cast in yellow from the illuminated interior, the manor looked more akin to a castle than a house. John shook his head slightly as he advanced towards the door, which was promptly opened by a familiar butler.

“Good evening, Mr. Newman,” Reginald greeted politely, though there was a glimmer of reproach in his eyes. “I see a change of clothes was not deemed necessary for the occasion.”

“Ah… fuck,” John swore as he realised he was still wearing the same booze-ridden costume from last night. Just another thing he hadn’t got around to doing since Red locked him out of their room. For fuck’s sake. He quickly switched over to his adventuring gear, before solemnly realising it just smelled like sweat, blood, and grime. ‘Yikes, have I even washed this once?’ he asked himself with a pinched nose.

“Do mind your manners, sir,” the butler scolded. “I can arrange for a shower and a change of comfortable clothes if you’d like.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” John replied as he switched back to the marginally more comfortable costume. “And I would love that, thank you. I’d definitely owe you one.”

“Your thanks will suffice,” the butler adjusted the spectacles on his nose. “I live to serve the Brighton household and their subordinates. For the time being, that does include you.”

“Well, despite our caustic relationship I genuinely do appreciate the offer,” John beamed with as much charm as his sweaty, ****-ridden form could muster.

“Very well, sir,” the butler nodded and showed him inside.

Reginald showed John to a room on the second floor, in a wing of the house filled with ensuite guestrooms. While he showered, a maid took away the dirty clothes to wash while also preparing a clean set for him to change into once he was finished. It was just some basic smart-casual attire: a white collar shirt, navy-blue dress pants, and a complementary pair of leather shoes. There was also a bow tie, but John forewent it for now. He was going to ask for a seer’s aid not ask her out to prom. ‘Even so, she’s an attractive woman,’John thought as he conjured the blind seer’s visage in his mind. Comely, slender, modest. ‘And a virgin if I recall correctly,’ John mused, not that he cared much for that in his women. ‘Who am I kidding? This is the Order and she isn’t married. There’s no doubt she’s a virgin.’

A light knock on the door distracted John from his thoughts. “Come in,” he called as he finished buttoning up the clean shirt.

The door opened cautiously before a familiar mane of red hair stepped inside. “John, the maids informed me of your arrival,” Moira smiled with a slight blush to her cheeks as she closed the door behind her. She was dressed in a green cardigan that matched her eyes and a baggy pair of trousers. “Y-you look good,” she noted.

“Anything was an improvement over what I was wearing before,” he shrugged in reply. “What’s up?”

“Weell, you are in my house right now, it’s only appropriate I visit you,” Moira blushed. “I thought I might see Lorelei with you. You know I want to help find those stolen souls,” Moira paused. “Where’s Red?”

A pang of ire spiked inside John. “You called it.”

“She’s mad at you?”

“Yup,” John let out a heavy sigh. “I tried to apologise, but she wouldn’t even let me past the bedroom door.”

“I can understand that. In truth, John,” Moira began softly, “your powers are actually quite frightening. Some might say it’s only a few degrees off mind control.”

“‘Some might say’?” John repeated with surprise. “Are you afraid of me?”

“No… not exactly,” she said carefully. “I’m optimistic that if anybody should wield such power, you are worthy — the Lady chose you herself, after all. It is intimidating though. Until recently I had believed that the three Wardens were Gaia’s strongest champions… but I’m beginning to understand that you’re destined for far greater power.”

“I don’t know about that, Moira,” John scratched his head. “I’m not really interested in becoming some champion of good. Especially not if that causes tension between us. I just want to live my life. Sure, helping people is nice and I love doing it… but it’s not my priority.”

“Believe me, I understand that as well,” Moira huffed. “If I’m being honest, it’s a relief to me. My burden as the Warden seems far less significant now that you’re here. I feel like… I can be me with you here, not the Shield Warden of the Golden Rose.”

“It is nice,” John agreed. “I like Moira Brighton.”

“A-and I like John Newman,” the Warden blushed back before composing herself again. “But I am worried. I do think you need to be careful how you use your charismatic abilities.”

“I know,” John flopped onto the guest bed. “It’s just… tough. I didn’t mean to manipulate her… I just wanted some peace and it seemed like a viable solution at the time.”

“I understand your intentions were well-meaning,” Moira sympathised. “But it’s important to keep in mind that the road to hell is-”

“Paved with good intentions,” John finished, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He’d only heard that in varying forms a dozen times or more. Still, her point had weight to it. “I hear you,” he sighed. “I just don’t know how to make it up to her.”

“She wants peace of mind that you’re not going to manipulate her like that again,” Moira explained. “Perhaps just give it a bit of time for the matter to cool down… then take her out for a nice dinner and use that time out to establish some firm boundaries.”

“Yeah… if she even gives me the chance,” John laughed scornfully. “Hell, even I can see now I raised a massive red-flag. If I were in her position, I’d seriously be considering just booking it, especially given her past…” God damnit, the more John thought about it, the more guilt he felt. Fuck, he was an asshole.

“No, don’t say that,” Moira said in a hushed voice as she sat on the bed beside him. “Red loves you. And she knows you love her just as much. It’s plain as day, even to me — the romantically challenged paladin of god,” Moira let out a self-deprecating laugh. “She’s just worried about you. We all are. You’re juggling a lot of stuff in your life right now, what with two investigations, your mother’s recovery, and whatever maleficent creature has taken root within you.

“Red told you more about that, huh?” John huffed.

“Yes,” Moira’s face grew serious. “I wish you’d told me.”

“Have you told anyone else?” he stiffened.

“No, I haven’t told the Order,” Moira assured him. “Though you know I hate keeping secrets from my father.”

“I’m sorry, but you can’t tell them. You know they don’t take chances with this kind of shit.”

“For good reason!” Moira insisted with damp eyes. “Believe me, my better judgement is screaming at me to have you secured for your own sake. I only haven’t because I believe we can work through this together… Will you let me look at you…?”

John was silent for a long moment. “...Okay.”

“Lay back,” she instructed, gently pressing her hand against his chest. He complied, sinking his back into the plush bed covers. There was a pregnant pause as they met each other’s gaze overtaken swiftly by an awkward air as they realised their position was far more intimate than either really expected of the other. “Ah-hum,” Moira shook her head and focused on the task at hand. A soft white glow began to emit from her hand. “The Lady grants Wardens the ability to detect intent. It’s a useful measure for gauging good and evil or guilt and innocence,” she explained. “Perhaps this will bring us closer to identifying who has taken a hold of you?”

“I hope so,” John replied, staring up at the ceiling.

Slowly, Moira began to trace her outspread hand across John’s body. He felt a slight heat from her palm, but nothing else. Gradually, her brow began to furrow, as her search yielded no outstanding results. She tried once again. “I-I can’t… there’s nothing,” Moira spoke with obvious confusion.

“You found nothing?” John repeated as he began to sit up. “Strange, because Gaia has indicated quite clearly to me that someone’s tagging along now.”

“Please! Just lie back down,” Moira insisted fiercely. “I’ll check one more time.”

John nodded and closed his eyes as he lay on the bed again. He felt the subtle warmth of Moira’s magic slowly wash over his body once more. It was relaxing in a way, and brought a slight smile to his face. “Nothing!” a tinge of frustration crept into Moira’s voice. “...Except…” she trailed off, and after a moment of silence John felt something wet land on his chest. He opened his eyes to see the wet path of a tear on Moira’s cheek. “This pain, this sadness… John… I had no idea you were hurting so deeply.”

John averted his gaze. “I don’t… well, not all the time anyway,” he said quietly.

“John…”

“Don’t worry,” he insisted. “It comes and goes… and believe me, I know I have things in my life worth living for. It’s a long list and it does keep me going. Red… and you are at the top of that list.”

“No. Believe me, John,” Moira’s green eyes gleamed. “I am worried, because I care about you!” she paused as she visibly mulled over something in her mind. John was about to use the opportunity to speak again, when the Warden suddenly threw herself forward, seizing his lips with hers. It was brief but passionate. For someone who he had thought was a blushing virgin, the Warden certainly knew just the right way to cross tongues with him. “I care about you,” Moira repeated softly as she pulled back. “As much as Red does. I really do.”

John sat up, still a bit stunned at the Warden’s sudden forwardness. “Moira…” he thought of a lot of things he could say in this moment. But he discarded them all in favour of grabbing her waist and pulling her into him again.