One Step At A Time

Posted on Sat May 17th, 2025 @ 20:11 by Jessica Leigh & Jonathan Monroe

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Avalon Institute - Counselling Suite
Timeline: Friday, February 12th, 1993
1145 words - 2.3 OF Standard Post Measure

The small office had a hushed stillness to it, broken only by the gentle patter of rain against the window and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Jessica sat with a more careful posture in the cushioned chair opposite him, her notepad resting on her lap. For now it remained untouched. She hadn’t written anything yet, making sure her attention was focused entirely on Jonathan.

“Thank you for coming, Jonathan,” she said gently. “I imagine this isn’t the easiest thing to do.”

Jon fidgeted with his hands a moment, contemplating. It had been a while since he had opened up to anyone particularly, and this session was overdue.

"Thank you. I guess...things haven't been particularly easy around here lately," he admitted. "What with the siege, with what happened to Cameron..." he left that part unsaid; they both knew the toll of losing a friend. "And then the incident with Rebecca, and our intruder."

She nodded slowly, her expression softening further at the mention of Cameron. A shadow flickered briefly behind her eyes - understanding and shared discomfort, but respectfully restrained.

“I imagine it’s been hard to even find time to breathe, let alone process any of it. Losing someone close like Cameron… that leaves echoes. And then what happened with Rebecca—and an intruder on top of it? That kind of pressure can feel… relentless. Like the world isn’t giving you space to recover before the next thing hits.”

He nodded, even just acknowledging hearing it presented back to him like that. “Yeah.” A pause. “I should’ve died, you know. When I got tossed out of that tower window, I should’ve fallen. I *did* fall. And then…”

Jessica’s brow furrowed slightly, but she stayed quiet, letting him speak. Her eyes didn’t leave his, steady and grounding.

“You didn’t,” she said softly. “Something stopped the fall… or you did. That moment—what was it like? What went through your mind when you realized you were still alive?”

He chewed on his words a little before the faintest of anxious chuckles escaped his lips. “It felt…liberating.” The wry moment left him quickly. “I took it all; the pain, the heartache, the grief of what - fifteen years? I took it all and I just let the whole pyre burn. And it felt…*so good*. And…I was flying.”

Jessica’s lips parted slightly, not in surprise, but in quiet recognition. She nodded, absorbing every word. “That sounds… powerful,” she acknowledged, her voice tender. “Like something inside you finally got to breathe. To be seen; to move.” She paused. “What did that moment mean to you, do you think—being in the fire, and choosing not to fall?”

Jonathan hesitated in response to that. ‘Choosing not to fall’ hadn’t been the phrase he would have used to describe it. But she was right, too; when he thought he was going to die, he had chosen to let it free.

“I don’t know. I suppose I’m meant to say it was somehow cathartic. But…I don’t know. I felt scared, of course. But I felt rage. So much rage, and fury. Years of it, like coal on a fire.” He paused, frowning. “Looking back on it, I wonder if I should be worried that anger was the most potent fuel I ever felt.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong that anger gave you power,” she answered gently. “Anger’s not the enemy. It’s a response—to pain, to injustice, to being unheard. Sometimes, it’s the only thing that can get us through. Anger, in itself, is a perfectly normal emotion.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, pondering her follow-up question. “That rage you felt is a survival response. It tells us something matters—that you matter. That the things you lost weren’t small, but it makes sense to ask that question. What’s scarier to you: the anger itself… or how right it felt to finally let it loose?”

He leaned back, staring into the middle-distance as he tried to put his own finger on an answer. “Was it right to let it loose?” he asked reflectively. “I guess I’m still here because of it. But I think the doubt in my mind is that I don’t know if it was right. Ever since I first got my powers, I’ve been afraid of hurting people, especially the ones I care about. I taught myself that letting it all loose was *never* right.”

Jessica’s reply was steady but firm. “And yet... it saved you.”

“Maybe.” Jonathan’s brow remained furrowed.

“Maybe it wasn’t about right or wrong in that moment,” she continued. “Maybe it was purely about survival. You’d spent so long containing something powerful, something tied to pain—but also to love, to fear, to every part of you. And when it finally broke free... it didn’t destroy you. It was the very thing that saved you.”

“But is that enough?” He looked down at his hands. He’d almost done some serious damage to Rebecca with that ‘survival instinct’. In the back of his mind he could still remember the smell of her burned clothing. “You’re a psychologist, right? You tell me if going semi-nuclear is a good idea when it comes to processing pain and anger.”

Jessica’s eyes softened with empathy, and she gave a small, understanding smile. “No, going semi-nuclear isn’t usually the best way to handle pain. It’s like using fire to put out a fire—you risk burning everything around you.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “But sometimes, a controlled burn can clear the way for new growth. What matters is finding a way to contain the flames without losing yourself—or hurting others. That’s what we can work on together.”

“A controlled burn?” he echoed, intrigued by the notion. “What, like a forest burning down to grow stronger, is that it?”

Jessica nodded, her eyes lighting up a little at his understanding. “Exactly. Fires can be destructive, but they can also clear out dead wood, make space for fresh growth. The key is learning how to start and stop the fire before it gets out of control.” She gave a small, encouraging smile. “You’ve already survived the blaze once, Jonathan. Now it’s about finding the balance; where your fire fuels you, instead of consuming you.”

“I…I don’t know how to do that…” he murmured. “Yet.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to have the answers right now. Learning to control something powerful takes time—patience, and practice.” She gave a small, hopeful smile. “We’ll take it one step at a time, at your pace.”

He nodded, exhaling slowly. “One step at a time.”