Time to man up, girl. [rp for lapsedsaint]

Charlotte slept badly, dreaming of marching to gallows and falling on swords. For once she had to force herself to stay against John in the night. The urge to put distance between them was strong. Not as strong as her wish to comfort him, though, so she stayed. They woke once and she made him eat something light, then she gave him the last of the healing energy she had and encouraged him to go back to sleep.

Her dreams the second time through were of the call she almost made and the possible cost of it.





When she woke again, she had to get up. She went about the business of morning—showering, making coffee and looking for something for breakfast. When she realized she’d made sausage, pancakes and fruit compote, she stopped. She laid out the table, complete with two syrups, put a heavy ward over it to keep the monsters away, and went out on the balcony to smoke one of John’s cigarettes.

Looking out over the city, she tried to imagine what he’d say when she told him Dagny could have injured him. What would he say about her hiding it from him? She looked at her hands, fingers still bare of any ring, and let out a lungful of smoke. Would it send him back to his employers, his conviction in their wisdom revitalized?

Worst of all, would he see her for the coward she was? Full of big words about what was right, but lousy at doing anything about it.

She ground out one cigarette and lit another.