The parade had definitely been weird. John didn't say it so much as just adopt that characteristic uncertain-but-polite stiffness that was usually code for experiences he'd never had. There hadn't been time for this during the war, and when the war ended? He was way, way too far away to see any of that celebration.

They've done it. That wasn't just a mission accomplished, that was everything. Chronoblivion is gone, and all the problems they have from now on are going to have other sources.

Problems.

That golden feeling of a job well-done is ephemeral. All the problems he'd worried about before this have nothing to keep them away, and now there are new ones too. John has spent his life ticking along from crisis to crisis, and the return to pattern is strangely steadying. ...Even if one of those problems is that an endless string of assignments isn't as appealing as it once was, and having people he would like to be able to see again.

And one of those especially.

"I don't know how long I'm going to be," he's telling Wash. "Something was happening. Maybe the Didact. We weren't sure."