Things that Go Bump in the Night

Chapter 50: Part 3: Knowledge is Power

A/N: Honestly, I'm shocked myself. Enjoy my friends. I will finish this book eventually...

Our argument after weeks of easy peace had obviously thrown John off of balance. His regimented schedule marched forward, but the open dialogue between us was broken. The hours he spent down in his laboratory increased and the time we spent together was awkward and tense. 

Obviously, I had struck quite a nerve.

Days passed without complete sentences spoken between us. These days of silence had given me time to reflect on John's words and my actions.

After all that he had told me about his mother, I couldn't believe that John could feel anything other than hatred for the man he called a father. The memory of how his eyes glimmered with pride and admiration when he spoke of his mother's bravery and her intelligence, continued to feed the flames of my anger for some time. The choice of which parent deserved love in my mind was clear.

How could he believe otherwise?

In the end, it was John's consistent and unprompted acts of kindness that diminished my righteous anger. When I arrived for breakfast, a selection of fruit was always awaiting me. After long hours of reading or worrying, a cup of tea was wordlessly delivered. It was when I awoke in the monitor room after hours of obsessively staring at the pressure plates, draped in a blanket that my anger faded completely into regret.

The blanket had not been there when I fell asleep.

I rolled the tassel ends of the soft blanket between my fingers, as my gaze searched the empty room. While the bunker was quite warm during the day, the stone floors grew quite chilly at night. John must have seen me sleeping and covered me to keep me comfortable when the temperature changed. My father used to do the same thing to me when he found me asleep in my text books or drooling on my homework. I looked back down as tears filled my eyes.

It was startling how emotional the one simple act of kindness caused me to feel.

John was a good man.

It was a blatant fact that was hard to ignore. As hard as I tired to fight my trust in him, ultimately there was just something about him that I inherently accepted. There was something familiar about him that I couldn't place. Being around him, even in my anger, made me feel safe. I had forgotten what safety even felt like.

John saved my life, he valued my opinion and freedom, and he had obviously sacrificed a lot to help others.

And how had I repaid him?

Through quick and hateful judgement. By trying to make him feel ashamed of emotions that I did not understand or have to deal with?

I looked around the monitor room, evaluating its mechanical features and dullness. How long had John said he had been here alone? Three years? He said he had helped design the place, but I doubt that he envisioned that he would be stuck here for so long when he signed up for the project.

It must have been lonely for him.

Bitterness twisted my stomach.

How could I have judged him so harshly? I didn't even want to listen to his explanation. I put my own judgements onto a life I have not had to live...it was wrong of me. Looking up at the dusty ceiling, I came to the realization that I was going to have to do one of my least favorite things.

Apologize.

I got up from the desk, folding the blanket gently before hesitantly making my way to where my gut told me John would be. I was surprised to see that the basement door was open when I arrived. The flickering fluorescent light from the bottom of the stairs doing nothing to help my confidence in the upcoming confrontation.