As soon as he stepped through the door, John could hardly contain his barrage of questions. "Mr. President, what's really going on here?"

Jack set the candlestick down on the table, casting a warm glow over the room. "It's a long story."

"You'll have plenty of time to explain," Ellie chimed in, hefting an empty kettle. "I'll go fetch some hot water."

Jack understood she was giving them space, so with a nod, he began unraveling the tangled tale for John. His account sent chills up John's spine. "My father told me you’d just sustained minor injuries. And now... to hear those people in the White House are imposters? The Johnson family must be out of their minds!"

"Not madness—just overly ambitious." Jack sighed. "Since time immemorial, political struggles have been vicious. America is a land of the people, not a family’s domain. After numerous presidencies, who knows how big of a bite the Johnsons think they can take."

John frowned. The First Lady, historically the Johnson family's linchpin, had usurped significant power. "So what do we do now? Risk intervening to rescue a counterfeit president?"

"That's the curiosity—why I suspect the Department of Defense might be in the dark." Jack had mulled it over repeatedly on the way. The Defense Department seldom took sides, especially in high-stakes matters. Could their involvement be more than just a diversion orchestrated by the Johnsons to allay suspicions from other power factions?

As for the support from Congress and the Senate, once the Vice President ascended in name and deed, they'd lack grounds for contention. Jack surmised this was why the Johnsons were hell-bent on legitimizing the Vice President’s claim: political backing remains crucial for any new president.

Yet, in the turbulent realm of coups, authority rested with whoever controlled the military. Washington possessed ample troops, but redistributing them wasn’t simple. With resources tied to commitments, mobilizable forces were sparse, many obliged to remain stationed elsewhere, unable to enter the capital.

John could muster nearby forces, yet the pivotal role belonged to the Secret Service in Washington. The head, a man Jack profoundly trusted, held the key. However, the scenario had been complicated by a bothersome variable.

"The Johnsons have woven deep roots in the government. A single-entity operation here will falter. We need dual strategies—one of which involves my confidential meetings with the Secretary of Defense and the head of the Secret Service," Jack declared.

"You’re suggesting mobilizing military strength from other states?" John quickly grasped the plan. Other states held portions of the nation’s defense might, enough to call upon allies’ aid.

Jack remarked evenly, "It’s just precautionary, given the distance." Deployments required multiple steps, a flawless execution paired with a return to Washington to guarantee allies’ assurance.

John asserted, "In that case, Mr. President, you must return to Washington."

"There's no other option," Jack lamented. "The Johnsons meticulously orchestrated this scene, not just to install their Vice President but to distract my allies as well."

Bereft of partners, confidants, and supporters, a leader without his presidential standing amounted to a mere citizen. Had it not been for his encounter with Ellie, he’d have remained oblivious to this conspiracy.

"I must personally escort you back," John stressed, unwilling to take risks. "When do you want to depart, Mr. President?"

"How long do you need to get ready?"

"Tonight’s manageable."

"Let’s leave in the morning, then." Jack recalled Fleming's tragic outcome, adding, "We'll rendezvous at the edge of town."

John agreed without fuss, "Understood, but Mr. President, is she..." He gestured towards the room where Ellie had disappeared, "Can she be trusted?"

A hint of a smile touched Jack’s lips. "Without her, I'd have been long gone."

"I’ve heard much about Michael," John confessed, anxiety clinging to his words. "If the rumors hold, can she really handle it?"

"I don't know, but she's our only chance." Jack had relayed the crux of the situation to Ellie previously. Her perspective echoed that of advisers back in Washington—only fellow extraordinary beings could curb a power like Michael’s.

They were bound by mutual constraints, leaving the political arena to address itself.

John sighed. "Does that mean that individuals truly possess superhuman abilities? I’d love to see it."

"What would you like to see?" Ellie queried, entering with a kettle of hot water. "Superpowers?"

John, appreciating her friendly demeanor devoid of pretense, played along. "Yes, I’ve never witnessed anything like it."

Ellie spread her hand open. "Watch."

A small flame danced to life in her pale palm, casting a gentle warmth. With a curl of her fingers, the flame extinguished without leaving a trace.

John watched, transfixed by Ellie’s display of power, lost in astonishment.

Jack cleared his throat, bringing John back to the solemn moment. "Time you head back, John."

"Oh, right." John snapped back, standing firm. "Take care, Mr. President."

Jack acknowledged him with a nod.

Silent as his arrival, John departed.

Ellie poured two steaming cups. "Have you come to an agreement?"

In a succinct manner, Jack affirmed, "We leave for Washington tomorrow."

"Good. Then rest up," Ellie conceded, taking the inner room to claim the bed and bidding Jack to the couch.

Jack stood, staring after her. She’d initially shown great care, now content to leave him to the couch, secured in the knowledge his condition wouldn’t worsen with her protection. 

But the night was frigid; he absently noted she hadn’t covered herself. A weary sigh escaped his lips as he draped the blanket over her.

When dawn broke, he roused early, letting the morning sun paint the room in golden hues. The stove crackled with the remnants of last night’s fire. He set the kettle on for a modest morning wash. As Ellie sauntered from her rest, she jibed, "So, you’re a coffee brewer now?"

Her unexpected presence startled him. The mug slipped from his grasp, clattering back into the washbasin.

Ellie stifled laughter, caught off guard by his reaction.

It didn’t sit well with Jack. As president, lacking domestic skill wasn’t supposed to be a laughing matter.

"Check yourself out," Ellie chided playfully, swiping moisture from his face with a teasing touch, "Can’t take a little joke?"

His head bowed reflexively, her tender fingertips brushing his skin. "I..."

Before he could utter more, Ellie passed him a towel casually. "There, all better."

Always the same... Words unspoken, Jack silently dried his face and wordlessly prompted, "Let's go."

Within hours, they departed Liberty City, joined by John and a few trusted aides—a robust assembly for safety. Relieved from driving duties, Jack finally reclined within the carriage’s warmth.

Ellie's company granted similar respite. Initially, John had procured dual vehicles, which Jack dismissed, fearing they’d impede progress, choosing instead the shared ride with Ellie.

John concurred, deeming it a safer choice.

Thus reinforced, their pace quickened with the more powerful engine.

Yet, Jack’s concerns over current events rendered him uncharacteristically silent. Ellie ignored the tense atmosphere, indulging in rest against the window—a pattern echoing the past few days. The written chronicles confirmed her need for sleep, evident in the ease of revisiting fragmented memories without searing headaches.

Thus, whenever idle, she preferred sleep to the use of her powers. The journey’s gentle sway added to the allure of slumber.

As she drifted between sleep and consciousness, a gentle tinkle tickled her ear; elusive, retreating as she strained to find its source.

A peculiar sensation. An illusion, perhaps? Ellie opened her eyes to Jack. "Did you hear a bell?"

Startled, Jack listened closely. "No."

"Must’ve imagined it."

Rejection of slumber made Ellie embrace meditation.

With closed eyes, she sank into serenity, "seeing" an array of hues swirling in air—white for light, green for life, blue for water, red for heat, and earth for solidity. With no effort to beckon them, her breath alone drew the red sparks to her, melding into a warming stream centralizing in her mind.

Heat blossomed at her core before flowing through her body, tracing its arc along the spiritual veins, completing a loop. With each inhalation, it repeated—a large cycle drawing to its end within an hour’s span.

While Ellie meditated, Jack quietly observed her, thoughts dancing across his mind, only to dissipate under deeper scrutiny.

In a blink, Ellie had traversed several grand cycles, awakening to study him. "What’s bothering you?"

After a protracted silence, Jack confessed, "I've been pondering the likelihood of success going against Michael."

"Hard to gauge," Ellie replied candidly. "Though stronger than him, I've been damaged. It’s uncertain how much has healed."

Jack nodded absently before posing an unexpected question. "Michael cannot personally harm me, but what about you?"

Her surprise was palpable. "What do you mean?"

His words unfurled slowly. "If I meet an untimely end, leave immediately, forfeit this place, and for my sake, dismantle the Johnson power structure, one by one, please."

The political winds of Washington shifted unpredictably; Michael might sway many under his influence, awaiting to slay Jack the moment he surfaced. Unless skewered cleanly, their resurgence felt inevitable.

"The United States, a mere 200-year history, has weathered countless crises," Jack murmured, "The competitions between superpowers never ceased, nor did domestic dissent. But now, the Johnsons' lust for power gnaws at our nation, transforming collective sovereignty into personal estate, sowing chaos through the land.”

Ellie listened attentively.

Continuing, Jack spoke softly, “A predecessor advised the need for joint growth and mutual trust amongst citizens to achieve real strength. But the Johnsons... they've run out of patience.”

The Johnsons had cemented their dominion over many aspects, circumventing legal scaffolding meant to restrain power, now feared by many.

"Ellie, if death finds me, uproot them at any cost." His gaze met hers steadily, "I offer no means to sway emotions—only my plea."

Ellie grinned, "No, I won’t promise that." Before he could protest, she added, "But know this, I’ll guard you no matter what."

"What if—"

"There’s no what if."