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[Fiction] Jager - Thoughts of Home


Timeslip

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I wake and moonbeams play around my bed

Glittering like hoarfroast to my wondering eyes

Upwards the glorious moon I raise my head

Then lay me down and thoughts of home arise

-- Li Bai

To some, he was a superman. To some, he was a god. But superman or god, Jager did not sleep well when the moon shone bright above.

During the daytime, it was easy to focus on the here and now. There was, after all, never a shortage of things to draw his attention.

A cornerstone of the Windy City Knights, Jager had a plate that was as full as anyone could ever want. Sandcaster, he knew, saw him as a combination of wonder-worker and maverick…The Crusader took him to be a four-color superhero with his four-color vision…Alchemist gave the man deference that he granted to no one else…and the rest? The rest, he knew, took him in with a mixture of respect and awe. In this emotional climate, Jager couldn’t have avoided a near-constant major role on the team if he tried. He was the anchor, the heavy artillery, the ace-up-the-sleeve that made the Knights as effective as they were…and it showed.

His life outside of the WCK was far from boring, either. In his time, he had tutored and trained countless young novas, instilling in them his particular brand of survival, his keen insights for thinking outside of the box. Jager had rubbed shoulders with the high and the mighty of the Teragen; he had chatted as an equal with Count Orzaiz, had dated and later left Alejandra, had been both friend and enemy to Geryon. And through it all, he had remained aloof and separate from that faction…and lived to tell the tale. His band of brothers among the Elites stretched around the globe and touched every continent; there was no place that he could go and not be within a short trip of an old friend…or an old enemy.

His activities carried into the night, and more often than not would hold his attention, would keep him from remembering, from wondering, from hoping lost hopes.

But when the moon shone bright through the Chicago sky, when that ancient orb reflected distant sunlight as it had done for countless millennia…under Luna’s gaze, Jager remembered.

Did they still think of him? Could he someday return? Would he be welcome if he could? Were they looking at the moon? Beneath the moon that this world and that of his birth shared, Jager did not sleep well.

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