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“…"

Silence. A peaceful, all encompassing silence surrounded everything that he was. No thoughts occupied his mind, no sights filled his vision, no sounds reached his ears. He neither rested upon anything, nor did anything rest upon him. His entire world was empty, as there was nothing but him; and he, himself, was also empty.

“...ro."

Strange. Was there something here after all? No, there couldn't be. And there shouldn't be, either. It was wrong, his entire, empty self understood that to its very core. In the expanse that granted rest, his place was to simply partake of it, to exist and yet release everything that he was.

“…er, hero."

It was a voice, soft yet commanding, and one he didn't know. It came from nowhere in particular as if it originated within his own mind though seeming vague and distant. What was it saying? The drift of his thoughts stilled, pulled into focus by that faint, melodious tone.

“Remember."

Remember? What was he supposed to remember?

His mind refused to yield the answer. This was not a place for such things. His part was done, his time had passed. A large piece of him rebelled against his attention, trying to diffuse it while bidding him to simply forget and let go as he was meant to.

That sweet voice sounded again, stronger now, more commanding, “Remember, hero."

The veil that covered him lifted slightly as he reached for something, anything, to put the owner of that voice at ease. He ignored whatever else tried to distract him, giving the little energy he could muster towards recalling, remembering what had been lost, what he was…

And then it returned. It was all there, sitting before him, and he had his answer for the voice. But that answer puzzled him greatly, “I'm no hero. I'm just a guy, the same as everyone else…"

***

John finally got seated, glad that they'd at least make it out of JFK. The overbooked flight was delayed by an hour going by the clock on his phone. With any luck, he'd still make his connection in spite of the terrible weather that held them grounded for so long.

Flying coach wasn't particularly bad, just a bit cramped for his six foot tall frame. He slid his backpack underneath the seat in front, making sure the straps stayed out of the isle, and settled into his own. The flight itself would take a little over seven hours, so rather than forcing himself to stay awake he opted to relax and rest through the first half of it. There'd be plenty of time to catch a movie or two later. He was tired, the wide yawn that escaped his lips was evidence of that fact, and he dozed off while the standard safety briefing played on the screen embedded in the seat back facing him.

***

Seen it.

John clicked the button again while stifling another yawn. The screen scrolled down past a recently released crime drama and onto an animated, family friendly comedy. He looked at the mother and daughter sitting next to him. The child was occupied with her crayons and an airplane themed coloring book, probably items hurriedly purchased at one of the small stores back in the terminal. With his neighbors in mind, he hit the play button on what was sure to be a fairly rambunctious and over the top film.

Fifteen minutes and nearly as many pratfalls later, the pilot's voice sounded over the intercom which paused the movie. “Ladies and gentlemen, we're cruising at thirty-six thousand feet, just short of half way to our destination in Amsterdam. At this time we'll be offering our mid-flight meal. If you haven't already done so, please make your selection on the touch screen in front of you. If you're having trouble, just use the overhead attendant call button and a member of our wonderful staff will be there shortly. As always, thank you for flying SkyTrails Airlines."

A little reminder popped up on the entertainment screen asking him to make a meal selection. The main choice was between a chicken pesto salad and a Mediterranean beef bowl, though a vegetarian menu was also available. If they looked anything like the pictures both items would be equally good, so John opted for the beef dish given it'd be something new to try. A few button presses confirmed his selection and he was back to the slapstick entertainment.

The flight attendants were busying themselves in the galley, getting trays stocked on the rolling carts and making sure that the drinks and snacks were ready. For them it was a routine flight following a well rehearsed script they'd done tens, if not hundreds, of times before. Some of the passengers were as experienced as the flight crew while others were taking in the wonders of a first flight, adults and children alike marveling at flying between continents.It was his second time flying overseas and things had been fairly pleasant, even with the delay.He glanced up from the movie when an unexpected movement caught his attention.

Two men stood at the same time, both wearing grim expressions as they stalked toward the center of the cabin. John heard shouting in the section before his, the curtain blocked any sort of view, but his eyes glued to the man standing in the isle as he realized something was drastically wrong.

How they managed to get guns past security was beyond him and for a second, he doubted his own eyes. He was staring at a small firearm; larger than a pistol, but smaller than something like an assault rifle. He honestly had no clue what exactly is was, he'd never even held a gun let alone fired one, but on a crowded airplane it turned every passenger into a hostage.

What chilled him the most wasn't the demands to stay still, the shrill screams and crying of passengers, or anything else that he heard. It was the small device held in the gunman's left hand, something trigger styled and connected to God only knew what was hidden under the man's jacket.

John glanced to his right, seeing the wide-eyed mother protectively hunched over her daughter, shielding her from whatever harm those men posed. Countless other children were on the plane along with their parents. Mothers, sons, daughters, husbands... Everyone there had a family, everyone there had a reason to make it home safely.

The man was still shouting orders, fright and disbelief coercing the passengers to follow them. Whatever their end goal was, whatever plan they had, it didn't include the safety of the innocent people seated around him. John took one more look at the woman, terror etched over her face, and the child now crying in protest at the overwhelming situation. He didn't really know why, he certainly didn't consciously think it over, but he acted on instinct when the hijacker shouted at the mother about silencing the kid.

Surprising both himself and the gunman, John lunged at the man's arms, wedging his finger behind the trigger of the device while trying to keep the weapon pointed safely away from anyone else. The commanding voice that had been shouting orders cried in a surprised yell at the sudden rush.

It was as if a dam broke; the entire plane erupted in chaos as the fear which had stalled everyone from resisting vanished with the singular act of defiance. John heard it all happening, felt bodies collide against his own as the passengers rushed to subdue the threat posed by the two men while his own attention was locked on the weapon and the device. Searing pain shot through his finger as it was crushed behind the device's trigger, blocking its activation. John tightened his grip on the stick, gritting his teeth against the pain and managing something of a battle cry as he fought.

It happened so fast, but it seemed like an eternity for John. He heard the first burst of three loud pops and felt the sudden impacts against his chest. Shock and agony hit as the bullets tore into him, but he pulled harder at the stick and with a surge of adrenaline, manged to tear it from the man's grasp. Another three rounds went off even as John was holding the weapon in place, struggling for oxygen though rapid, gurgling breaths. His vision faded, though he willed his arms to hold firm, thinking of nothing beyond the safety of the two that had sat next to him…

***

His mind shifted back to the present and his confusion at the words spoken to him after drifting over the exciting last moments of his predominately uneventful life. He was quite dead, of that he was sure, but he wasn't mad or bothered by it. This place, it seemed, prevented such emotions. He did, however, have one pressing question, “How'd it end? What happened after, well…"

“Rest assured, your efforts were not in vain. Of the passengers, only four died, including you, and all of them did so in the same manner; fighting against those that chose to bring violence to the world." He was glad to hear that and he felt a sense of relief wash over his mind as the voice continued, “But to answer your main concern, both the mother and child remained safe and unharmed."

“Good, I'm glad." Though he didn't know them beyond a pleasant smile and a friendly wave from the kid at the start of the flight, it was a weight off his shoulders; figuratively speaking anyway, given he had no shoulders at the moment. With that matter settled his attention came back to his current state, why he was, well wherever he was, and why he'd been called…

“A hero?" the voice teased. “Because heroes are made of a combination between circumstance and heroic spirit, not through providence. At least not in the world you're from. Even saying that, those of your world absolutely recognized what you did."

“But there's people that deserve that title far more than me. Firefighters, cops, EMT's; they all put themselves in harms way to save lives every single day. I sat behind a keyboard for most of mine. Not saying what I did wasn't important, but being a software engineer and coder isn't in the same league as what they do."

“Perhaps, but you should apply that same logic now. Mortals aren't in the same league I am when it comes to examining one's soul."

That was a fair point, especially given that John had no idea what or who he was conversing with, and one he really didn't have an argument against regardless of how he saw himself.

While John mused over that particular thought, the melodious voice continued, “So you have a choice to make. You can remain here, as the vast majority do, and reach the end of this journey as a mortal should. Or, you can be given a new life without losing the you that was…"

He couldn't help but interrupt, “I think I've read about a dozen or so manga with this exact story line."

A short laugh sounded in his mind, “It's only natural, is it not? The idea of another life awaiting after the finality of death is a compelling one, and has been since long before the written word even existed."

It seemed his formless companion had an answer for everything he thought of. “Alright. So what happens now? I suppose I'll be reborn as some sort of blessed hero." In many of the stories he'd read, the heroes turned into anything but heroic once they were set loose. Granted it was all whatever the author dreamt up for dramatic tension, but in a situation where he'd be ordained as someone beyond normal people from birth, would he be able to retain his values, the things that made him who he was?

“In response to your first point, yes, rebirth is the normal path for souls in your circumstance. As for the second, it's an interesting question, and one that you'll need to answer for yourself over time."

Even in this place, having someone read your mind like an open book was unnerving. John pushed that thought aside as he mulled the issue over, “So let's say I keep my ego in check. I'd still be treated differently, and depending on how, it'd keep me sheltered from seeing what really needs to be done; what the people need rather than what the aristocrats want. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to take your offer, but I'd be happier about it if I wasn't some destined child from birth and I was in a position to see what I'm supposed to fix. If you can do that, I'm good."

There was a pause before he received his answer, and the voice's tone was far less inviting than what he'd heard previously, “Long has it been since anyone questioned my ability, or presented conditions to me, hero. Longer still since those conditions weren't centered around their own advantage."

As much as this place forced peace and tranquility on him, it wasn't able to fully seal the feeling of dread that crept up his ethereal spine. Did I just fuck this up?

“Oh, not at all," the voice answered immediately, though its words still carried a harder edge. “Your concerns are well thought and made without greed or malice, so there is no fault to be found. Rejoice, hero, for a unique solution to address both concerns exists, thus the deal has been struck."

John didn't have time to question the whole rejoicing part as his limited perception faded once again.

***

Pain. Unending, nerve wracking pain accompanied his ragged, first breath through dry, parched lips. His whole body felt as if it was on fire and yet tingled as if blood flow had just returned to a numb limb. He wanted to cry out, needed to scream, though he lacked any sort of strength to do so.

A second, shuddering breath came, his lungs aching as air passed through them, followed by a shock to his chest when a heartbeat sounded loudly in his ears causing them to ring. The singular thump felt as if it tore through his entire being, forcing stilled blood to move agonizingly slow through veins that had ceased to carry any flow.

Another beat, another breath, then more that followed after. His whole frame twitched in a series of spasms as life was once again forced into dead flesh. Everything hurt, everything ached; the torment unlike anything he ever experienced before. Even getting shot wasn't as bad…

John's eyes flew open, a dry crust pulling at his lashes as the lids parted, revealing a dimly lit world obscured by a thin film masking his view. The ringing in his ears subsided as he gasped for breath, the noise he made oddly echoed to himself in a higher pitch.

“By the gods…"

It wasn't English, but somehow he knew the language all the same. Regardless, someone was there with him.

“..ter," was all he managed.

Another round of shocked gasps answered him.

“Water," he practically croaked. Strangely enough, he used the same tongue as the voice he heard moments ago.

The man was lifted up to a sitting position by trembling arms that weren't his own. A cup touched his cracked lips and his hands flew to it, tipping it back. The liquid stuck, causing him to choke and cough hoarsely before he tried again and managed to force it down his reluctant throat. In short order the vessel was drained so he reached out and voiced a simple command, “More."

“At once," someone answered, though the raw fear in their voice was evident as the cup was removed from his grasp. It was a voice he certainly knew, one he had lived with all his life. But that couldn't be… John blinked again as he heard a door open and shut, forcing at least some moisture over his eyes and clearing the cruft that remained after he first pried them open.

He was sitting in a bed wearing some sort of gown or perhaps pajamas. The sheet and comforter had fallen down to his waist, probably as he was sat upright. Painfully thin arms supported the fabric of his gown, and the bones of his wrists and hands were plainly visible under the meager flesh and pale skin stretched taunt over it all. In spite of everything happening, the pain finally began to subside.

His eyes traveled up, pulling away from the decrepit body that somehow was his own, and onto the two people standing before him. One had on a black, dress styled uniform and apron; but rather than something like his own smooth skin, furred arms hung from the short sleeves with large, paw like hands at the ends. The maid's face was equal parts bizarre and familiar; having rounded, furred cheeks and a muzzle like those found on a rabbit, but with forward facing eyes and an overall head shape more suited to a human. Tall, blonde, almost sand colored, furred ears stood at odd angles from the top of her head, sprouting just behind the bonnet that completed her ensemble.

John's mind fought with itself, both knowing who she was and wondering the very same thing as he stared in disbelief. Standing beside the strange woman was a far more human looking individual clad in a white robe trimmed with black and gold accents. This person was completely unknown to him, “Who…"

The rabbit's name, Marissa, flowed into his mind as she lowered her strikingly large eyes and immediately bowed, “This is Lady Nefreem, priestess from the temple of…"

“Leave us, but allow the girl to return with his cup."

Marissa twitched and shrank back from the commanding clergywoman, “As you wish." After answering, the servant bowed again and left with her ears folded flat backwards.

With the maid gone, the stern look of the priestess was directed back at him. “Divine guidance has brought me here, though I find myself questioning why." The woman would have been attractive were it not for the constant glare coming from the nearly violet eyes behind her small, circular glasses. “But my place is not to question miracles."

John felt the tight skin of his brows crease in confusion, “Miracles? What do you mean?"

A scarlet tint started at her neckline and rose to encompass her entire face, eventually reaching the light brown hair above her forehead. “Have you no humility?!" Whatever the situation, she was completely livid by his simple question. “Yes, the noble blood of the Treyford clan courses through you, but noble or no, magic or no, escaping a death curse is impossible. Your father fell to it, then your mother. Both your older and younger brothers and finally your sister. The last to fall was you. Yet after I saw your death throws, after your last, festered breath escaped from your foul mouth, moments later did you draw life again. If not for the goddess or her kin, how is such a thing possible?"

The door cracked open which interrupted the woman from unleashing another tirade. A younger rabbit, dressed in far simpler attire with a rapidly twitching nose and a ceramic cup held between her hands, poked her head in and began tiptoeing towards the bed. The enraged priestess shot her glance down to the servant and knocked the cup from her grasp. Water splashed against the wall and comforter while the cup bounced harmlessly on the plush carpet below. “Child, if you value yourself, run from this cursed place and its lord. If fear holds you, then he must simply wait until you refill his cup, though I suspect even poison wouldn't down this beast." Lady Nefreem glared at John one last time then marched through the door, slamming it shut as she passed.

Just what the hell was going on here? The man sank back onto his pillow, drained from the harshness of the priestess and the mental strain of trying to focus his jumbled memories. In his peripheral vision he saw two comparatively smaller rabbit ears, both just a few inches taller than the mattress, approach the foot of the bed. Tiny clinks sounded as the girl's clawed hands retrieved the cup from the floor. It was a reminder of his thirst and a low, rumbling growl from his stomach announced his hunger.

It took but a moment for the girl's name to come to his mind, “Gwen, I know this has to be a strange situation, but please, fetch me more water."

Those diminutive, sand hued ears shot nearly straight upright in alarm at being addressed, and they rose slightly until her wide eyes of deep brown with blue speckled irises just barely peered over the bed at him.

“It's alright, just do as I ask."

The girl was rooted to the spot, probably afraid, confused, and shocked that he wasn't simply yelling at her as he'd done countless times… No, not him, but rather Treyford, Johann Treyford. John took a deep breath to steady himself, then reached towards her. Out of reflex, her ears shot down and back, shying away from the hand that was usually cruel regardless of the circumstances; though John simply patted the longer fur on top of her head that was closer to human hair than not. “Go on now."

Two small knocks sounded at the door with Marissa stepping nervously though. It was plain to see that the child was the maid's daughter. She glanced between the girl who was practically frozen in place and John, her ears swiveling and bending in a reflection of the emotional storm swirling behind her dark brown eyes. “Do as the lord says."

Gwen broke from her trance like state, nodding quickly and offering a short bow before literally hopping off through the door. It took a second for him to realize what was odd about her movements; the child's legs were built differently than a human's, ending in long feet with widely spread toes that she balanced on. Though unusual to him, it was also endearing in it's own way; and for the first time since he'd woken up, he managed a smile. “Cute kid."

Marissa approached the bed, her own ears slanted back with worry. What was she so afraid of? “She meant no disrespect, it's just that…"

John didn't hear the rest of whatever she said as the answer to his question flooded his thoughts. The rabbit was his caretaker, assigned to him even though she was just five years his senior. While she dressed as a maid and performed that role, she was also essentially his, and he knew this. Growing up, he was constantly reminded of that fact by his parents and siblings, twisting his perception of their relationship. The way he treated her past his early years was beyond evil. Each time John poked through the man's memories he found some new example of the cruelty shown. Worst of all was when Johann was fifteen…

And he'd been eyeing the little one recently, a child of only six years who was more than likely his own daughter.

No, that wasn't me, he told himself. Regardless of the memories swimming around in his head John was still himself, the same man that'd been killed trying to save those around him, not this. Not this…

“… Master?"

John looked up at those wild, dark eyes, filled with worry over whatever arbitrary thing her twisted owner would decide on. “Marissa," he could see her swallow nervously at the mention of her name, “it's fine. That priestess was the one who spilled the water, not Gwen, and I wouldn't be cross over something that small anyway."

The rabbit's mouth opened and closed several times with no words ever leaving the furry muzzle. Based on her reaction and his own delving into the memories left after Johann's death, kindness and understanding were simply foreign to her, at least when coming from him. She shied away again as he clenched his jaw in disgust.

Seeing her fear renewed, John forced himself to relax and let the tension drain from his features before addressing her again, “Sorry, my stomach's just having a few issues. It's been empty for how many days?" A small lie to cover for the scowl, but one that could easily have been true as his stomach helpfully rumbled.

The maid's nose twitched as she stared at him push himself upright. As much of a bender as this was proving to be for him, she had to be faring just as bad at the rapid fire surprises. “Four, Master, since you've had anything but water."

“I see. In that case, I'll need something light. If we have broth or stock, a thin soup with only a small amount of meat so it doesn't shock my system. It'll take some time before I'm fully recovered." John began pulling his pillows into a pile so he could prop himself up. He didn't have the reserves to keep himself upright for much longer given his muscles were already tired and aching.

Furred arms appeared beside his own, “Master, I'll get that…"

John placed a thin hand over the larger one that held onto the pillow he was reaching for, “No, Marissa, I've enough strength to take care of this. You'll be of more help getting what I asked for. It's fine."

“But…"

He gave her hand a light squeeze, “I'll be able to sit up and drink more when Gwen gets back, but I really need something beyond the water. While most will probably be loathe to hear it, I won't keel over and die again. Once in a day is enough for anyone, I think." He dryly thought to himself that he'd seen death twice now, though Johann's memories were rather hazy by that point; the curse leaving a sort of indistinct, formless anguish as the man lingered through his final hours.

A horrified look spread over her features, “I never wanted you to…"

“And I'm grateful for that, really. But please, see to the soup for now." John began dragging the pillows into a pile again.

A short bow from Marissa was his answer before she turned on her toe tips and walked briskly through the door.

What exactly was it that he asked for? What conditions had he set? John thought on the topic as he leaned back. The pile was large enough that he didn't slouch, though he wasn't exactly straight upright. So he wasn't born a hero. Well, Johann wasn't anyway. The man was a scoundrel in every sense of the word, a legacy he'd been gifted when his soul graced the body of the recently deceased man. But more than that, he was the cause of many of the types of problems he imagined someone of the heroic persuasion would be tasked to fix. The mysterious being he spoke with certainly kept its word; you couldn't be too sheltered from conditions of your own making.

The little rabbit girl reappeared with the cup while he pondered the situation he'd been dropped into. At first he didn't really notice, but he caught sight of the ceramic mug being held above the mattress with the tops of her ears standing just behind it. John reached for the cup with both hands to make sure his grip was steady, “Thanks, Gwen."

She nodded and stepped back from the bed, her ears staying upright for a change.

This time he managed far more measured swallows though he still felt thirsty enough to down it all in one go.

***

Marissa held the last spoon full to his mouth, letting him take in the thin broth with what was probably some sort of poultry based on the flavor. The meager bit of strength he'd shown after waking dwindled quickly and left him exhausted and collapsed back against the pillows. John hadn't been targeted by a curse, but the body he currently occupied had. Drained to the point of death but forced into living again, it protested in every way imaginable against all but the slightest of movements. Thankfully, swallowing was something he was able to do without too much resistance. The warmth of the soup was welcome, a small addition to help kindle the flame of life sputtering within the frail corpse of a man. He managed the entire bowl, tiny as it was, but even that little bit filled him completely. Days without food had seen his stomach shrink to the point he could only hold that much.

Nearly an hour had passed since his second chance at life started, and he'd spent much of it just trying to sort his mind out while not upsetting the two servants or giving them cause for more concern. John still knew of his own past, the one on Earth where he was born and raised in Virginia, went to college, and found work in D.C. Beside that was a second past, one with twenty-two years of memories and thoughts from Johann Treyford, the now dead man John was taking over for. It was like owning a book he'd never read before and one lacking a table of contents. The information was in there, he could read sections of it at will, but he didn't have a catalog of what all it contained. The first thing he sifted through were memories about the person sitting next to him and her daughter.

Marissa was a kind soul that Johann had taken advantage of in more ways than John could count. It seemed every time he delved into the man's past, he found some new, deviant aspect to his personality that he directed towards her. Why she didn't simply leave was beyond John, and it certainly wasn't something Johann ever dwelt on or even considered. Marissa's daughter, however, was a sore spot for the deceased noble. The man simply refused to acknowledge the child was his own in spite of ample evidence suggesting it. That led to his constant accusations of betrayal on her part, that she'd bedded down with another of her kind. After all, there was no way his seed, noble as his blood was, could mix with a commoner, let alone one of the demi-humans. It was also the reason Johann was so fixated on the child and his constant belligerence towards the girl.

The rabbit maid sat next to him on the bed, placing the empty bowl back onto the tray she'd brought it on. The bed itself was enormous, more than likely to show off his family's opulence, but it was ridiculously large for him, and even more so in his emaciated state. An acrid chuckle forced its way to the surface as he glanced over his condition and reflected on the misplaced pride these people had.

“Master?"

John looked up from his thoughts, “Hmm?" The look of concern behind those eyes caught him off guard. Marissa was worried, genuinely so, about the man that had done so much wrong to her, “What's the matter?"

Those large ears swiveled back and splayed out almost sideways, “It's nothing, really, but you seem upset."

John shook his head, “I'm not." The look of disbelief was something he expected; yes he was put off, though not by anything she'd done. “But mind if I ask you something?"

The fact that he'd shown even the slightest bit of civility took her by surprise, “No, not at all."

“Why haven't you left this place? Left this all behind?"

“What?" The woman's ears shot straight up and the look of shock was quickly replaced by one of sheer terror, “No…no! Master, I'd never…"

He did his best to keep from showing anything that would worry the rabbit further, “I'm not suggesting you would, but if I was in your place, I probably would have."

“Then I'm not being dismissed?" As John shook his head, she nearly deflated with relief. “Then why would you even ask such a thing?"

“Because I can't recall a single act that I've done to deserve your loyalty." The man sank back in his pillows. “Quite the opposite really. So I'd like to know why is all." He glanced at her face, watching her nose twitch with concern mirrored by the guarded look in her eyes. “This isn't a test, Marissa. Though it is an honest question and I do expect an honest answer without fear of reprisal. You have my word on it."

“But it is, isn't it?" The rabbit's hands fell to her lap, landing on the white apron covering the black skirt of her uniform. “If not a test, then surely some sort of game." With a deep breath she steadied herself, “But one I'm forced to play. To answer plainly, I've no where else to go. I'd be branded as a run away, returned here if caught, and the gods only know what would become of Gwen. If I took her with me, then she'd be sold off when I was caught or brought back here for whatever punishment awaits. And if I didn't take her, I hate to think what would happen to her without me."

The implications of that hit him right in the stomach to the point of feeling nauseated. “And if I set you free, both you and Gwen, then what?"

Marissa looked even more defeated as her shoulders slumped. “That would be nearly worse. Here we have food and shelter. It's not always comfortable, but it's the only home I've ever known. Outside, I'm a woman with a child, no skills beyond simple housekeeping, and no husband. I'd be seen as a common whore, or worse, and treated as such. My duty is to you, to make sure you're looked after, then to Gwen, to ensure her safety as I'm able." The maid shut her eyes as if going through her own memories before taking a deep breath and looking at John directly, “When I was much younger and you were just born, I was tasked to serve you by your parents and my own. I accepted that, and so I hold to it even now, regardless of what the years have brought."

“I see." Through his own misdeeds, and more of a mistake than anything planned, Johann had trapped the rabbit woman and ensured her continued dependence on his family and on him. This also confirmed what he thought, that the maid and child were more or less considered property socially. “One more thing, Gwen's mine, isn't she? I'm her father."

Marissa sat there, watching him intently for a moment before she simply nodded. “She is, but…" She pressed her paw-like hands together, the clawed tips of each finger pushing against its opposite twin. “You've changed."

John felt the apprehension creeping up into his mind, a soft voice barely intruding his thoughts warning him against revealing too much. It reminded him of the span between this life and his first and the one who offered him this chance. “Have I?"

The rabbit nodded, ears pushed forward while studying the frail man as if truly seeing him for the first time. “You have."

“Nothing bad, I hope."

“Heavens no." Her head shook far faster than her ears could keep up with, the ends staying primarily upright while their length flexed and twisted with the sudden motion. “Honestly, it's something I never, ever, expected though I prayed for it daily. But to hear it, to hear you actually speak to Gwen without…without the judgment and..." Her breaths were quickening, each coming at a faster pace than the one before. The woman's shoulders shook as her eyes teared up, a slight sniff from the ever-moving nose revealing just how close she was to losing control over herself.

John was entirely out of his depths, but he reached out with those spindly arms and pulled the woman close, letting her head rest on his rather bony chest. She tensed at the sudden contact, probably from surprise at his concern. “Shh, it's alright. Apologies if I'm not exactly comfortable to lean on right now." He added the last bit in the hopes of warding off a full on breakdown in her composure.

The shuddering breaths warred against her reaction to his quip as she fought to neither laugh at his audacity nor outright cry. She buried her head into his shirt with her ears pinned back and fists grabbing at the fabric as she found her voice, “How can this be alright? I've wanted so long for her to be acknowledged, to no longer be the object of your scorn. Six years I've waited, and when my wish is granted, it's not even by the same man I wanted it from, yet at the same time it is. How can any of this be right?"

Just how perceptive was this woman? John reached back into Johann's life, desperate for just one time the man felt truly grateful…

“Hey, now. Remember the first manifestation?" He let the memory play out in his mind, narrating it from Johann's eyes, “I was five, scared out of my gourd with scalding hot water shooting out in every direction that my arms waved. I was beside myself and panic doesn't even come close to describing how I felt when I broke that old vase. The only one brave enough, that cared enough, was a certain bunny that covered her face and ran towards me until she got close enough to pin my arms in her hug and held me there till my father arrived to actually do something about it."

He patted the top of her head, hopeful that he could give her the comfort and reassurance she needed while guarding the truth of his own situation. “I know you got hurt then, that your legs and feet got some of the worst of it. Apart from that, how many other times have you been there for me? More than I can count. But Marissa, I died. I died a shriveled up husk of a man that was beyond all thought, any sort of reason; just some base part of a mind wanting it to end. And even then, even with all that, I still knew you were here. If I came back from that and I didn't have a new perspective on life, just why would I have been spared? What would be the point? If I've changed, and it's for the better, then good. It's as it should be."

Marissa pushed herself from his chest, sniffing a few more times as she did so. “You know I hate being called a bunny, yet you always say it." With a deep breath she sat herself upright, rubbed her eyes clear, and straightened out her dress. “Very well, Master. If you say so, then I shall accept it. But right now I feel as if a stranger lies next to me; one that knows me, knows my master and our shared past, but one that I've only just met."

John watched the maid gather up the tray and slide herself off the bed. She stopped at the door and glanced over her shoulder. Her tail twitched, the stubby puff's movement catching his eye, just before she stepped through the door and closed it lightly behind her.

***

Sleep and food were the things his body craved, what it needed, and he had little choice but to comply with its demands. He fell asleep shortly after his first real meal in days, a dreamless, restful slumber that he didn't wake from until late evening. He managed another bowl of the thinned soup and with Marissa's help, he even made it to the bathroom and back.

John sat in front of his dressing mirror, looking himself over. If it weren't for the effects of the curse, Johann would have been fairly hansom. Bright, almost ice blue eyes gazed back at him, albeit somewhat sunken in their sockets. His skin was still sickly pale, stretched over an emaciated face that showed hints of a strong jawline. The man's light silver hair was disheveled and limp, sporting a greasy sheen from going several days without washing.

“Yep, about as bad as I thought," he muttered to himself. The person in the mirror wasn't anything like he used to be, though he could hardly ask for such a thing now. John glanced at his teeth after running his tongue over them. Much like the rest of him, those needed attention too. While he'd like a toothbrush, the people here still used rough linen cloths to wipe their teeth clean. Maybe he'd take up being an inventor on the side.

The cloths were stored in the top drawer to the left, as were several other cleaning implements, hair brushes and the like. Most of these were rarely touched by Johann directly, given that Marissa tended to his every need in that regard. Come to think of it, several of the other servants should have been around and he'd seen none but the rabbit and her daughter. He'd have to ask about it, but the matter could wait until morning.

John pulled one of the cloths out and worked it over his teeth, trying to get the gritty feeling off their surface. After several minutes of awkward scrubbing, he inspected his results in the mirror. Better, though he'd definitely be adding toothpaste and mouthwash to his list of inventions. What he really wanted now was a hot bath and a fresh set of clothes to sleep in…

“Actually, that's one thing I can do," he glanced at the door and sighed. “So long as I can make it." Digging through the dresser provided a change of sleepware in the form of a longer robe. Not exactly the most covering option, but a clean one. John pushed himself off the seat, grimacing with the effort of getting up after the surprisingly draining task of just getting his teeth cleaned. “One step at a time."

It was something he'd seen in the memory he described to Marissa; Johann could use magic, water specifically. The man was fairly gifted in it, enough so that it just sprang forth a month before his sixth birthday. It was a trait all the Treyford line shared, and one that'd make drawing a warm bath that much easier. If he inherited the body and memories of Johann, maybe he also had the innate talents that went with them.

But first he needed to make it to the tub; a short distance by most standards, but quite far for someone in his weakened state. Halfway to his destination, John leaned himself against the wall. He felt his legs trembling and knew full well the folly of attempting this on his own as he fought to control his labored breathing. Perhaps it was pride that drove him to this point, but a damned hero ought to be able to make it to the bath at least. He was both surprised and relieved when the nearby door of Marissa's room opened.

“Master?!" She bolted to his side, covering the distance in just two steps thanks to her long, digitgrade stride. “What are you…"

“Just... trying to get to the bath," he managed a weak smile as she helped steady him. The woman was strong, easily keeping him upright in spite of being over a foot shorter, excluding her ears of course. Either that or he weighted next to nothing. “Hope I didn't wake you."

Marissa was dressed in a simple nightgown, one far less ornate than her maid uniform. The plain, white cotton fabric was well worn though clean and cared for. “I wasn't asleep yet, but Gwen is."

“Hopefully still is." John put his arm over her shoulder for added support while keeping the robe clenched in his other hand. “Thanks for the save."

“Forgive my saying so, Master, but you could have rung."

The man grimaced at the slight admonishment, though in hindsight it probably would've been better. He simply shrugged then added, “True, though I was trying to save you the hassle and I didn't know if you were awake."

Marissa's ears pinned back, “A ring of the bell is better than this worry. I heard the impact when you hit the wall."

He didn't realize his lean was more of a slump, perhaps he was far less coordinated than he initially thought. “Didn't think it was that bad. Anyway, I'll be fine once we reach the bath." He nodded at the room still several paces away.

The maid shook her head, “I don't wish to speak out of turn, but if your goal is to get better, you should be resting; though you seem to be determined to do anything but."

“And right now I'm also anything but clean, Marissa." He took a deep breath, just staying upright was taking its toll and he'd need to sit before too much longer. “I'll make a deal with you; lend me a hand now and I'll behave until morning. You're even free to watch over me and make sure I keep my end of it."

“Honestly, at a time like this." After an exasperated sigh she started them walking towards the bath; her with confident steps, him with shaking limbs and a death grip on his robe.

A seat never looked quite as inviting as the one next to the large, hand hammered, copper tub. Not because of its extravagance, but rather that it was a temporary reprieve from standing. With the rabbit's help, he managed to settle somewhat gracefully onto the chair with a deep sigh of relief.

While he caught his breath, Marissa placed her hands on his shoulders, “Please stay seated here. I'll pull the water and get it heating."

“Wait just a moment on that." John was grateful for her help and willingness to do so, but he needed a simple test. After a few seconds of controlled breathing, he reached his arm over the tub's edge, letting it rest on the shiny metal surface while thinking about Johann's magic in the past and digging through the memories of his first lessons. Almost by muscle memory he started reciting the chant for water creation, but he stopped after the first word. Looking at it from the perspective of an outsider, this wasn't something that required an invocation; otherwise, it wouldn't have happened on its own so many years ago. Johann used them, he'd been taught to concentrate on the words in order to control and direct his magic, but were they truly necessary?

The small voice that guided him from time to time didn't seem to think so.

So John sat there for a moment with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and thinking about what he wanted to happen. Water, enough to fill the tub three quarters full. And warm. Steaming, but not so hot as to burn. Something relaxing, soothing; inviting him to let the cares of the world melt away under its surface. The image burned through his mind, becoming a sudden warmth racing down his neck, through his arm, and into his hand. He didn't say it of his own volition, but a single word escaped his lips in English. “Water."

John's eyes opened as it materialized just below his hand, dropping into the tub with a sudden splash and sloshing around the copper vessel before settling to smaller ripples. Vapor rose from its wavy surface, filling the air with humidity that tickled his nose as he breathed in deeply. It wasn't anything as fancy as the spells Johann used, it certainly wasn't flashy, no glowing circles filled by intricate scripts with geometric patterns or the like, but the result was exactly what he wanted. More than that, it just felt right to the man, as if a long neglected need had just been met bringing peace and comfort to both his mind and body.“Now then, mind helping me in?"

Marissa's hands tightened on his shoulders for a moment, “Master, you've no need to use magic on my behalf. You've said many times it's use must be applied sparingly."

John rummaged through Johann's memories, looking to find such a thing during his training. In truth, he'd been instructed to save his mana for when it was needed, that a flashy show was a waste when not put to good use. But that seemed to be applied to the battlefield in order to keep the spells saved for when they'd be most effective. Here though? Maybe if he truly feared something like an assassin, but the young man never seemed concerned. More than likely this was yet another mistreatment of the rabbit, as if her convenience was beneath his effort.

John made a small huff of disgust at his findings, “Then think of it as saving my time. Besides, this helps us both, doesn't it? I get my bath sooner and you get to save trips in bringing it here." He touched the water with his fingertips, the warmth of it calling to him. “In any case, it's a simple working, and I haven't noticed a change other than feeling better at having used it."

John glanced at his hand, flexing the fingers and turning his wrist over each way as he examined it. “Far better, actually." His arm was still tired, but the appendage felt like he'd just finished a good workout with it rather than merely being a half dead weight. From his neck, through his shoulder and all the way down to his fingertips, he felt fully alive for the first time since awakening. Or at least part of him did. The rest still felt like he was inhabiting an animated corpse; one which was being lifted so he could stand and undress. “Marissa, this is going to sound odd, but when we drain the tub, it goes down through a drain in the floor, same for any water that spills over the edge, right?"

The rabbit helped him free of his pants and nightshirt, choosing to safely get him into the claw footed tub as she answered, “The tile is sloped to direct the water toward it, but yes, the drain sits underneath."

The warm water felt amazing to his body as he settled in against the warmed copper, “So a little water on the floor wouldn't hurt anything, right?"

Marissa looked up from the cabinet where the soaps and washcloths were held. Beside the supplies was a small heating stove that sat unused thanks to his little experiment. “Well, no. The room was made for washing in, after all."

“Ah, good. Well, here goes…" John took a deep breath and focused on the memory of the spell he used just moments ago, this time concentrating as if to project it from his complete body. The same temperature, the same volume, just replicated across his entire self. The idea was simple enough, if using magic through just one arm made it better, then perhaps leveraging his whole being for the spell would yield similar results.

John didn't catch the hint of mirth that reached him before firing off the working. A small giggle sounded in his mind at the same time that a very loud “Whaaa!?!" came from a shocked Marissa and a wave of exhaustion washed over him as nearly half the room suddenly flooded. John's consciousness was swept away in the perfectly warm, immensely comforting, and entirely unexpected pool he created.