-M. Ali

Fractals of ice shredded John's mind as he fell, tearing away bits and pieces of who he was. Only the most primal shell of a man was left, vague images flashing through his consciousness. A fiery redhead with too much lost and too much yet to lose, a raven-haired genius with a heart of gold buried under emotional baggage too mighty to move through ordinary efforts. A brunette whose outstretched hand reached back to a time so far gone and yet so close at hand. A blonde whose depthless eyes still managed to be so full of concern and love that they were nearly overflowing.

"You ask too much of me. I cannot bear this burden alone."

"You bore it for years without my aid. I pray that you need not bear it again, but to stay… you ask that I carry something far greater."

"I burn for you - my heart, mind, soul, loins… every party of me aches for you. If I lose you now, I do not know if I still have the strength. Without you…"

"I'll die, Master!"

John gasped, his entire body shivering as he launched himself upward. The motion was foolish - the sudden removal of the sensation of dropping through infinity, combined with a rapid rush of blood from his skull, left him with few options except to tumble helplessly back to his carpet. Despite the thin layer of cushioning, John's head bounced as it returned to where it had started the foolhardy attempt.

"Ow, fuckin'- shit, that was awful," John grumbled, rubbing at his scalp. A warmth filled his chest, washing away the pain all the way to his bruised skull and finally freeing him of some of the haziness that still clouded his mind.

"John Newman, you blasted fool, what have you gotten yourself into this time?!"

The voice that greeted John was recognizable by tone, even if he hadn't been able to immediately place the voice itself. Angry, concerned, and chastising in a perfect mixture that absolutely screamed "Moira".

"What have I gotten myself into?! She attacked me - again! Where's Seras?!"

"Calm down," Moira sighed, jerking her head to the side. John turned sharply and was relieved to see Seras, looking shaken but intact and cleaned up. Her clothes were tattered, but otherwise she looked alright, thanks to her inhuman durability and healing factor. Even the Order safe house's walls were clean of any bodily fluids, though there were two large holes where Seras had been pinned to the wall.

"I called 'er, Master. You weren't wakin' up, an' I couldn't figure out why."

"How long was I out?"

"Approximately three hours, twenty-seven minutes. My drones have indicated that you were under the influence of an illusion spell, though there are some unusual patterns to the magic. I'm not yet certain of the origin of this interference."

Tricia's expansive vocabulary and monotone notation was a bit of a welcome sight. Despite the concerned looks on most of the faces around him, the multiple Knights in full armor, and the still-present ringing in his ears, John could convince himself for a moment that he was safe and that nothing at all had changed.

"I ask you again, John Newman - what happened? Why was she here?! I have three dead Order soldiers assigned to protect you - I want to know why!"

"She said she wanted to see me. I guess she found out I didn't die after she put this… thing in my chest," John said, trying to keep things straight in his own mind and piece together what little he knew from their two encounters. "Last time we met, she talked about breaches in the Divide and wanted to see me… angry, I guess? This time she seemed more interested in seeing how this object was developing - she talked about not being able to resist returning. She pissed me off, activated the shard, and then… talked about me like she loved me."

John did his best to summarize the strange interactions, how in the span of two encounters that totaled perhaps ten minutes altogether, Himiko had gone from showing as little regard for him as the three soldiers she'd just slaughtered to acting as if he were hurting her by not recognizing her on sight.

"A woman like that knows nothing of love," Moira spat, "but she may well have deluded herself into thinking that you are some sort of toy for her affections."

"Our original working theory was that she would not have ventured out here in the short time since John obtained his powers," Tricia continued to note, working on a holographic terminal from one of her drones. "Her infamy for planning and preparation would mean that it's almost assured she would not make such a lengthy trip outside of her own territory over a rumor without confirmation, which she is unlikely to have received so quickly. Furthermore, she would not do so without extensive preparation for the trip itself, meaning an even longer wait time. But if she truly has such infatuation for John Newman, if she believes she could take him from us…"

"Us?" Moira growled, slamming her fist into the wall. Despite the apparent reinforcing of most of the building, Moira's fist rocked the wooden paneling loudly enough to make John start.

"The Order, I mean, of course," Tricia whispered, sighing with unspoken regret.

"She has already taken three men from me… I cannot tolerate another. Tricia, gather what information you can. I will recall the others to the manor to fortify and reinforce - I will not be leaving you alone outside the manor anymore. This crystal of hers concerns me, rare and powerful as it may be. If she is testing out some device she hopes to implant in you, or has one of the other Gorbachevs in her possession-"

"Her possession?" Tricia emphasized, eyes widening slightly. One of the drones beeped furiously, but her brow continued to crease. "My friends - my family are not possessions!"

"Perhaps not," Moira growled, meeting her eyes with equal intensity, "but we both know they are perfect as weapons."

Tricia's anger grew, but Moira was the one becoming more tense. John could see her forearms bulging and tensing with the pressure she placed on the hammer and shield she had not set down since John had awoken, refusing to look away from Tricia's gaze. For her part, for the first time since John had seen her, Tricia did not have even a trace of fear in her. At least, not of Moira. She met the Warden's gaze unwaveringly.

But in the end, only one of them was pumping a combination of **** through their bloodstream that was designed by nature to put an end to any emotions resulting from or causing conflict. Tricia shuddered after almost a full minute of silently hating Moira, closing her eyes and turning her head to the floor. She did not apologize, she did not give any parting jabs. As a robot, she strolled away from the Warden.

"I will collect as much data as I can on what magical residue remains."

Moira grunted, not taking her eyes away from the numbed Gorbachev for several seconds longer. When she did, it was to call the soldiers around her outside the room, ordering a few to search the perimeter while the rest secured their vehicle to return to the Brighton Manor.

"It seems that every time I prepare for our first true counter-offensive," Moira grumbled, "some new disaster befalls us. John, you must understand something. I cannot protect you from Himiko if you remain here. If my father… if we had a mature Warden, one with years of experience and training far beyond what I have, we might be able to have some confidence in our victory. With the Order in its current state, our warriors cannot even slow her - we have been shown that. I doubt that I, or even my father, could stand against her."

"So… I'm on my own then?"

"As we all are, it seems…"

Moira whispered that and headed for the door. John followed behind her, catching the door just in time to slip out behind her. Seras made a move to follow, but John quickly held up a hand to reassure her. He didn't want Tricia left alone after what had just happened, no matter how little company the two might have considered each other.

"Moira, what the hell was that about?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with, John Newman."

"That was harsh. Even for you. Even with how much you hate her."

"I do not…" Moira sighed, turning toward John and putting a hand on her hip. "I do not hate Tricia. I simply have no time for adding additional problems. They seem quite attracted to you; I don't need her becoming another."

"Tricia told me a little about your history with her. I don't understand why you're so harsh on her! I've screwed up plenty too, I've messed up just by going to the mall. So she failed a couple of missions, so what?!"

"Failed a couple of missions? Is that what she told you?"

John blinked, raising up an eyebrow. "Yes? I mean, I-"

"For someone who kept so many secrets, you're entirely too quick to believe that others have none." Moira shook her head with the disapproval only a motherly figure could normally muster and a sadness and anger underneath that John couldn't help but feel was not directed at him.

"Then what really happened? Why do you treat Tricia like you can't stand to be around her?"

"The same reason I do not enjoy the thought of being around this Himiko. She's dangerous and unpredictable."

"That's hardly fai-"

"That mission… she told you it was about an artifact recovery, no doubt? There could be no other incident she referred to. I know not what tale she wove for you, what half-truths she dared to speak, but she did far more than cost us an opportunity to recover an object, no matter how powerful.

"We were battling the Forgotten Legion - this was before their new leadership, shortly after they were **** from their old territory on the East Coast, when they frequently attacked our caravans and prodded at our borders. During the course of the mission, while she was healing one of our wounded soldiers, I was caught off-guard by a particularly lethal burst of magic. I shielded my men to the best of my abilities but was launched several dozen yards into a nearby building. The front lines fell back to recover while I healed myself and returned to the field of battle, but in doing so, I exposed Tricia and the wounded to attack. Tricia was hit by a barrage of fire magic - her suit protected her but was significantly damaged in the attack."

"Oh… no…" John's eyes flashed back to the Gorbachev's reaction to an attack on her own home, how inconsolable she'd been from a single grenade's effects and the chaos around it.

"You already know what happened, don't you?" Moira said, glaring. "Tricia was frightened. She was angry. She was hurt. She lashed out, those crimson eyes searing two of the Forgotten Legion nearest her into piles of ash and cleaving the arm from a third. The soldiers of the Order rallied, pushed on, my second-in-command sensing a turn in the tide. But Tricia did not care who stood in her way - all she saw were threats, and her eyes never ceased. Four of my men were injured in the crossfire between herself and the fleeing Legion soldiers. Two were eviscerated, torn apart. By that point, I had finally freed myself of the rubble and took it upon myself to subdue her. It was all I could do to knock her ****; if she'd been focused on me…"

John licked at his lips, which were only half as dry as his throat. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Moira sighed, clasping a hand on his shoulder and meeting his eyes with a severity that he couldn't match.

"That is why I can never forgive her, John. It is not because of a mistake she has made or because of some repentance she has yet to offer me. It is because of what she is. Like no Gorbachev before her, she has lost control. She is a living bomb, a creature of primal emotion that cannot be tamed. I protect her… I protect her only so that others may never be able to use her the way I once did. The way I once foolishly believed was safe. I know now the error of my ways, and I will never make that mistake again."

John stood there, blinking, as Moira turned and strode away, a long-harbored regret deep in her strides.

Storyline Quest Advanced!
Storyline: Warden and the Watcher Part 2 has begun!
Quest Objective: Hear both sides of the story