AN: Something in a slightly different style, just to see how this (amazing) fandom reacts. Yes, I have intentionally left the characters anonymous - post a review so I know the reaction?

I was so amazed by the responses to the most recent stories - more to come, but this has been in my head for a while.

Important: This story is designed to be read slowly... just... that's how it should be read - with time. (I'm weird, I know.)

Enjoy:


Stage Six-and-a-half

They're sitting side by side, silently watching.

They've been there for a while, the first time together, and – to her surprise – he is the one to break the silence. She was certain it would be her, and she had been trying to figure out a way to begin. Where does one begin here?

"I'm sorry."

She responds. It's the least she can do, after all – it's not his fault. "You don't need to be. There was nothing you could do, nothing any of you could have done. At least you know that now."

"Doesn't matter. It was my job."

She smiles wryly, having expected exactly this. "No, it wasn't. I appreciate the thought, though." They fall silent for a while, and she knows he disagrees with her – he's spent so long convincing himself otherwise it's pointless to argue. Let him think what he thinks. "I've come to think of it as okay, really, you know – one of those 'for the greater good' sorts of thing."

He raises an eyebrow, and again, she's not surprised. She knows that deep down, this time, he thinks the same – it's his patented mindset, after all.

"Yeah. Shocker, huh? It's alright. Everyday it's worth it, when it… when it… pays off, for everyone else."

"Pays off? You lost here, you realise that, right?"

"Yes, but I got over it."

"You got over it? Just like that?"

She admits that it took a little while, but explains that she's always been like that. "I've always been good at dealing with things – I'd make a good Brit, you know; keep calm and carry on. Seeing other options."

He flinches a little at the statement, and she softens. He can't help it, not really. "But still, it does hurt… sometimes."

"Finally, a normal response." he chuckles, and it fades into a frown, and when she stays silent, he mutters "I know."

She thinks for a moment, debates, and then settles on the truth – he deserves to know, if anyone does. "Actually, it kind of sucks."

He laughs again, darkly sarcastic. "Yeah, it does."

They fall into silence again, watching as they can. She sighed deeply. "I was the first, wasn't I?"

He looks over in sympathy, and places a heavy hand on her shoulder. "You were the battle cry. You were the unfortunate symbol. Merely by being who you are – light and sunshine and laughter and love – you drew the dark to crucify you." A pause, "You were a call to arms."

She looks resigned to this – as well she should be, she's known for a while, but there was some part of her that needed to hear it from him, to really understand. His bluntness cannot be misunderstood – for all the trouble it caused. And then she speaks again, conversationally, "I hated you for a long time, you know. I didn't know you, and I hated you. So much. There were times when I looked sideways, or… or something little would just… set me off. I truly hated you."

He shrugs. "I can't change that. I am what I am." And then, depreciatingly, "Damaged."

She nods. "I realise that now, and I'm sorry for hating you then, for judging you… I think I understand now."

The hand on her shoulder tightened, "And I am sorry for that."

"I appreciate that." Quietly, and he knows she means it.

They make eye contact for the first time, and smile through their knowledge. He is suddenly a southern gentleman once more, offering his hand, calloused as it is. She takes it to shake, and laughs loudly at the absurdity.

He smiles at her shaking form, understanding now, of why. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Jessica."

She stops laughing, smiles, "You too, John."