(1/2)

John turned the letter over in his hand, but there wasn’t anything on the back. A challenge, but should he accept, John felt that the term ‘rematch’ was a little too simple. He’d met this Telgradian not only with his fists, but with his beliefs as well; and now reading this letter, he knew Shinsou felt the same way. The letter omitted a date, but tradition of the Citadel was that rematches were held a month after the first bout. Again, the wording of his inner monologue seemed insufficient for the notion at hand. He’d met Shinsou’s every stroke with an ironclad body and will, matched the Telgradian’s philosophies of conquest with his own of protection. No, ‘bout’ was not a descriptive enough term.

Jamie set a mug of steaming tea on the table and cupped her own in both her hands. The hearth was winding down, but still cast enough light for him to clearly see her tawny face, framed by wavy black hair. She gave him that look, the ‘what are you thinking about?’ playful smirk. John set the letter down and grabbed his mug, smelling the spicy honeyed notes of the tea. Despite the comfort of his home, and the company of Jamie, and the smell of the tea, he was distracted. He stared into the fire, and took a sip.

“Am I a tyrant, Jamie?”

Before she could muster up the indignation John expected, he turned to her.

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t think about it too much, but I do. Isn’t it possible that the only difference between myself and Osiris is that our beliefs about what’s ‘good’ are slightly different from one another? If my ideals of right and wrong were skewed just a little, I’d believe that this city was ruled by a corrupt bureaucracy that has killed enough people to warrant exactly the kind of thing Osiris threatens to bring down on it. Are my ideals so different from his that I would stand against him in the coming conflict? Could I be the tyrant in this scenario?”

John fell silent, feeling the uncertainty rise inside of him. He turned back to the fire, trying to silence his thoughts on the subject so he could try to organize them, think about them one by one. For a long minute, he pressed back against thoughts that threatened to disrupt his philosophy. He didn’t notice Jamie had gotten up until she pressed her fingers into his shoulders. John’s distractions lessened, and his head rolled back a little so he could stare up at her.

“I know you, John, you’re a good man,”

John sighed. “What does that even mean, Jamie. If –“

She silenced him with a hand placed softly on his lips and continued.
“You gave Daniel that armor, some of your best work, at cost of material only, when you could have sold it for more than he was even worth, and when I told you that Philomel wanted to conscript the girls at the Rose to fight, you told me you’d be there to protect me, no matter the ideals in play. Nobody fights out at Jacques’ tavern any more because of you, would you like to know why?”

John didn’t answer, he knew she would in a second. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on her touch.

“You destroyed a dragon for the sake of what it would to people who couldn’t have protected themselves. It cost you your skin, and months of pain in recovery. It’s because you’re a protector, John. I’ve never known you to be anything different. You have this amazing armor and a shield, and half the time you don’t even use it for yourself because you take the hits head on.”

Her voice changed at the end slightly and John opened his eyes to see her eyes shimmering with yet unshed tears. She rested her forehead on his, and sniffled. John reached up to tangle his fingers in her hair.

“You protect us, every one of us, and every time you go out on a team, you bring them back safe, no matter how beat up you are.” There was a pause, and she lifted her head to look at him, taking a sleeve to wipe her eyes. “I love you, John, and every time you come back broken, it breaks me a little to see it. And you’re a good man, a great man, for it, and that’s why I’m here, even if it scares me.”

John’s eyes widened as Jamie walked around to sit on his lap, leaning her head on his chest. Moments like this were rare for her, she always liked to play the aloof, clever vixen in his presence.

“That’s the man you are, John, you’re a shield for everyone you care about, everyone you’re responsible for.”

John blinked back the haze from his vision and wrapped his arms around Jamie. He took a deep breath, steadying himself again. He tried to think of something clever to say, but all he could muster up was a whispered word of thanks, lest his voice betray the depth of his emotion.

John felt that he had been called, and though he had always known that he must answer, now he knew his mind could be ready, as well as his body, to bring the debate to Osiris again. His breathing slowed as his thoughts fell into place, noting that ‘debate’ would be a fitting term for their reunion at the Citadel.