Jon was sitting upstairs in the previous Lord’s study when the footman let him know that there was someone at the door for him. So many people had been coming all day after his speech in front of the church, that for most of the afternoon Jon felt like he’d been holding court. He considered the whole thing a complete success at this point. The manor was still sparsely staffed, but the former employees were slowly trickling back in now that the tide of public opinion had turned in his favor. Things still weren’t running as they should, but some servants were better than one. Even if she didn’t say anything, he was sure that Miss Marne was pleased by the change in the fortunes of the house. At her age trying to take care of even half of the most pressing chores herself was impossible. Jon had no doubt that tomorrow she’d have a few more members of her old household back and he’d have at least a few recruits ready to take on the powers that be. 

The only thing he wasn’t sure of was who would be calling at this hour. The sun had set hours ago and all his visitors had trickled to a stop shortly after that. There had been quite a few - more than he’d expected honestly. From the old friends that had come by to let him know they were glad he was alive and healthy to the various people that considered themselves important enough to ingratiate themselves to the new Warden by congratulating him for exposing the priest’s malfence. It had been a heartwarming day. After dinner he’d been content to dig through Lord Burton’s effects for any useful intelligence about the goings on in the region that might benefit the things that were going to happen next. It had turned up nothing nearly as interesting as the angry townspeople’s search of the temple’s lodge had, though. They’d been aghast at the luxury on display in those rooms and the headman had been forced to personally intercede to prevent a lynching. 

That made Jon smile as he descended the stairs. With the former Warden already gone, he couldn’t have invented a more convenient scapegoat for the excesses of nobility if he’d tried.  Without the pudgy priest he was sure that his message would still have reached a few people, but his words wouldn’t have been half so effective without the damning riches the priest had hoarded. 

He was so distracted by that particularly gratifying victory, that when he looked up and saw her in the entryway he was stunned. Jon was completely unprepared to see Claire standing there in a pale yellow dress, smiling thinly. Just the feeling of meeting her eyes after five long years hit him like a hammer blow. His heart had sung to see her hundreds of feet away only a few days ago. It had been wonderful to know that she was alive and happy, but to see her like this - to be close enough to see every freckle on her smiling face… His heart hadn’t raced like this in a long time. Certainly not the night before when he’d faced the dregs that the Baron had scrapped up to face him. 

“Well look who it is,” he tried to put on a brave face as he stepped off the last stair and onto the floor. He was close enough now that he could smell her, and that made him falter. He’d meant to follow that up with a compliment. Something over the top to put her off balance and cover up his own nervousness, but once he got that close all he could manage was a lame “It’s been a long time Claire.” 

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say for yourself, Jonathan Shaw?” Her words were cross, but it was an act. He had enough experience with women now to see that much. He stood there quietly for a moment, and second by second the silence eroded her resolve until her true smile burst forward from behind her overcast expression. 

“It’s so good to see you,” she said, stepping forward to wrap him in a hug that was as tight as it was unexpected.  

Her touch disarmed him. Suddenly he was 14 all over again and being kissed on the cheek again by the girl he was deeply in love with. It was terribly ironic. He’d faced death any number of times at the hands of men and monsters, but the only thing that could really make him freeze in fear was one little redhead tucked away in the town he grew up in.  

For a moment he allowed himself to be carried away by the comforting embrace. It felt like he’d truly come home. Like the nightmare that his life had been for so long was just that - a nightmare. After that moment passed though, he could feel the eyes of the servants on him, and quickly grew uncomfortable. The hall was no place for such a reunion. He quickly considered the drawing room, but because that was where he’d been piling all of the un-need luxury that this house was full of, it was a wreck. The same went for the paper strewn study, and it would be entirely inappropriate for him to take her to his bedroom, so instead he broke the hug and took her by the hand. “Let’s talk on the porch,” he said firmly, not waiting for her answer as he took her by the hand and led her outside. 

There in the darkness they had a modicum of privacy, and as they sat down on chairs on the front porch he was acutely aware of how close she still was. So few things in the deeps had smelled like anything but sweat or sulfur, so for the last few years he’d learned to too that scent out, but her sweet earthy scent assaulted him while they sat there, making it even harder for him to look at her as they sat in silence. After more than a minute before Claire finally asked, “People say you’ve been in town for days now.” 

“Only since yesterday,” Jon shrugged, trying to cut her off from where she was going, not that he expected it to work. 

“Still - that’s two days Jonathan!” she sighed, exasperatedly, “Two days you could have seen me or said hello. Anything! But instead you’re just going around stirring up every hornets nest you can find.” 

“Is it so wrong to want to leave you out of it?” Jon asked, staring pointedly at their feet. 

“You…” her voice faltered. “You want to leave me out? I waited for you. For a year I bothered Boriv every week until one day he said that he’d received word from below that you had died.” 

“That’s touching, truely,” he started, “But—”

“But?” Claire practically choked on the word. “But nothing Jonathan! You were dead for years, and one day you just come back into town without so much as a hello? Is that really all I deserve?”  

“I actually saw you on the first day you were back.” Jon said quietly. 

“You did?” This surprised Claire enough to finally put her on her back foot. “When?”

“You were actually the first person I recognized when I cam into town.” Jon continued. “I was just standing there at the train station trying to understand how the whole world had fallen apart. How even a beautiful little island of stability like Dalmarin had fallen into ruin in my absence. I was wondering if there was anything good left in the whole world, and then I saw you, walking down the street with your laundry in one hand and your daughter. I—”

“My daughter?” Claire laughed then, long and loud. “You thought that Nari was my daughter?” 

Jon was chagrined. He’d clearly misjudged the situation, but he wasn’t quite sure how. “I just thought that… You’re a beautiful young woman and it’s been years, so there was no reason in the world why you wouldn’t be married.” 

“Who said I wasn’t,” she asked, the question killing most of the humor that had been there moments before. “But whether I was or wasn’t, that has nothing to do with taking my youngest sister to the river with me.”  

Jon looked down at her hand, but saw no ring there. That didn’t decide the question one way or the other. Peasant families often couldn’t afford such luxury items, even in the best of times. He just sat there, his head spinning at the idea of being this close to the girl he’d loved for so long that she’d almost become a myth to him on his darkest days. He’d been with other women since he’d left Dalmarin, but he’d never forgotten her. 

“Does that change anything?” she asked finally. “If you’d known that I was single and that I still thought of you would you have come to me?”

“It can’t change anything,” Jon said, finally looking up to face Claire. For once he didn’t get lost in her green eyes. He just talked. “Maybe if I hadn’t started all this it would have. But it’s too dangerous now. There are too many things in motion, and even if I could stop them they’re too important. I—” Claire leaned over without any warning and kissed him. This wasn’t a little peck like when they were kids. This was a passionate kiss on the lips that he was soon fervently returning even if he didn’t mean to. 

Jon had been alone for a long time. Too long. He reached over to her, desperate to pull her to him, but finally his willpower returned enough that he pushed her away instead. “We can’t do this,” Jon said sadly. 

“I’m not married anymore Jonathan. I was, for several years, but… well, I’m a widow now, so there’s nothing to stop us from—”

“But there is,” Jon insisted, hating himself for it even as he spoke. “You’re not the first person I’ve been close to either. Others have already died for this cause, so I can’t… no, I won’t get close to anyone else. Not until after this war is won. It’s too dangerous.” His mind drifted to Elise in that moment. He’d pushed her away too, and for all the same reasons, but he hadn’t been able to stop her from joining anyway. If he was honest it was because he hadn’t really wanted to.

“So you want me to what - just wait around for you so that I can find out that you’ve died again in a year and spend the rest of my life wondering if you’re really dead Jonathan? Are you really so cruel?” Claire asked with tears in her eyes as she spoke. 

“No.” Jonathan shook his head. “I want you to live. I want you to move on and have a long happy life, even if I’ll never get that chance to do the same, I need you to do that for me.”

Claire stood, and slapped him hard across the face. Jon made no move to defend himself. He was certain he deserved it.

“You’ve grown hard Jonathan Shaw.” she spat accusingly. “Hard and mean spirited. This isn’t selfless. This is just cruel. For both of us.” After that, she stormed off, not even bothering to lift her dress enough to keep it off the wet grass. 

“Only as hard as I had to,” he said to himself after she was too far way to hear as he watched her walk away for what might be the last time. He’d had to turn his heart to flint to survive the horrors he’d lived through, but even with that reasoning, the accusation still stung somehow. He’d grown jaded enough that murdering men in self defense didn’t keep him up at night, and even though he knew how many people would die in the coming weeks he didn’t flinch. He would do what needed to be done, and only when they’d made a better world would he finally try to build a little happiness for himself.