10089/Path of Glory: Safe and Sound

Path of Glory: Safe and Sound
Date of Scene:	08 February 2022
Location:	Martin and Jon's Suite
Synopsis:	Jon and Cael have a long talk, about what's ahead, what's behind, and what they're feeling. There is no clotted cream, because Cael doesn't know what good food is.
Cast of Characters:	Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker
Tinyplot:	Path of Glory

---

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon refuses the stretcher. Not out of pride, so much as panic, when he realizes they'd have to strap him down to move him. So in the end, he uses Martin and Cael's help to walk to the quinjet, and lets them strap him in. He dozes fitfully on the short trip back to the Triskelion, and despite doing his best to stay awake while they get him cleaned up and settled in the bed in their suite, keeps yawning. He explains that his days and nights are all turned around, because the desert was too hot to travel by day. He keeps dozing off while Martin's trying to help him shower off forty days of sand and dust, and then jerking awake with a start.

    It's easier once he's in the bed, piled with extra blankets and with an IV drip set up for fluids and nutrients. He has some tea and a cigarette, and Martin manages to find a statement from the stash in Bucoda that wasn't recorded into the Archive yet--it seems Gertrude kept stacks of those, perhaps for just such situations. Shortly after reading the statement Jon falls asleep, and stays that way for hours, hardly moving. He hasn't been able to properly /dream/ for over a month, either, and his whole body is trying to catch back up.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael stays close by Jon's side through most of this - though she allows Martin and Jon their privacy, while Martin gets his husband cleaned up. Once Jon is settled back into bed, however, she's back by his side while Martin fusses with the IV, and everything else Jon needed to get comfortable.
    It's a short while after he's dozed off that Cael excuses herself - explaining she should use the opportunity to visit Sara, and let her know Jon is back. She's gone for less than an hour, before she returns with tiramisu, which she leaves in the kitchen - well out of reach of the dogs.
    After slipping quietly into the bedroom again, it isn't long before Martin excuses himself to make sure all the medical requirements are taken care of - and Cael curls up at Jon's right side, her head resting on his chest as she breaths in his scent - her right arm draped across his body to lightly grip his hand. She doesn't mean to fall asleep - not really - but it's been three days since she slept properly, and she's soon fast asleep atop the blankets.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The lights have cycled well into night-time mode by the time Jon wakes up, and for a moment he's disoriented and confused. The weight on his body makes him freeze, breath coming in shuddering gasps until he realizes that it's Cael, asleep next to him. He lies there staring up at the ceiling for a long moment, collecting himself, taking long, deep breaths. It's okay. He's not trapped, he's not in danger. He's home, and safe.

    For however long that lasts.

    He shifts a bit, gently moving Cael off of him and onto the bed proper and then trying to figure out how to sit up with his one arm currently stuck with a needle. He's hungry, and thirsty, but more than any of that just now he needs to /record/. He needs to start setting down what happened to him, as a backup to the mystical Archive.

    Finally he gives up on trying to move, and just conjures a glowing hand to pick up a microcasette recorder from atop the dresser and float it over to him. It doesn't even really occur to him, how easily the magic comes; that he can do it at all, that he's not /blocked/ from it, is such a joy that he starts crying.

    That doesn't last long, though, and soon he's turned away from Cael a little so his speaking into the recorder won't bother her too much, reciting the experience of Michael's physical torture in an oddly calm tone. So that's probably what she'll wake to: Jon's voice droning softly as he finishes recording that portion of the experience.

Cael Becker has posed:
    The truth is, Cael's not that heavy of a sleeper. It's a small miracle Jon gets her off his chest without waking her - but the sound of his voice droning on does wake her. It takes her a moment to realize what she's listening to - as he details the questions, his realizations, and the repeated lashings - culminating in the loss of his arm. She closes her eyes again, taking a deep breath in, and letting it out slowly, as she often does while steadying herself - before she finally reaches out to try to take Jon's hand once more, her wordless gaze studying him with concern and sympathy.
    She hadn't really meant to //eavesdrop//. And she hadn't wished to interrupt, but since it seemed he was done with recording his thoughts for the moment at least...
    "Can I get you something, Jon?" she asks softly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon doesn't really reply or even seem to realize that Cael's awake until he's done. "And then he cut off my arm. It hurt so much... I screamed, and then passed out." A pause. "End recording." He shuts off the recorder with a soft 'click' and then sets it aside.

    He doesn't respond, at first. Instead, he starts to sob, curling in on himself as well as he can, eyes squeezing shut. He hasn't had a chance to cry, not really, because he's been trying not to waste the moisture. At least he's turned toward Cael for that, largely because of the IV in his arm. For a few minutes, he just lets himself cry, mourning the loss of a part of himself. Whatever else happens, he's never going to be quite the same again.

    Finally, he looks up and reaches out to run his hand through Cael's hair. "Hey," he says, and sniffles. "Umm. Juice? Tea? I could /murder/ a slice, but I think pizza's probably too heavy right now." He frowns. "Toast, maybe. Applesauce." A heavy sigh.

Cael Becker has posed:
    As Jon starts to cry, Cael simply pulls him in gently towards her, a few silent tears streaking her own cheeks as her fingers gently run through his hair soothingly. "I'm here, love," she offers in a quiet voice. "I'm here now. You're not alone anymore." For the moment, at least, her rage is superceeded by the grief and concern she feels for him.
    Once he calms and begins to speak she offers, "I think Martin left you some broth as well. And there were these 'Ensure' vitamin drink things he mentioned... But I could try my hand at brewing you a cup of tea, and suffer all your recriminations for getting it wrong - yet again. And bring you some toast and applesauce."
    She cups her hand gently under Jon's chin, so she can give him a soft kiss before adding, "I'll just be a few moments. Alright?" She extricates herself from the bed - starting towards the kitchen on bare feet.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    All the prickly standoffish nature Jon normally has appears to be gone, or at least put aside; maybe it's because he's in his pajamas, in his own bed, but there's still something very soft and vulnerable in the way he leans in to Cael running her fingers through his hair, the way he smiles at her after that kiss. He sniffles again, and says, "What did I come back for, if not for you to brew tea wrong? Don't let Martin know, though, you'll never hear the end of it."

    As she gets up he reaches out to catch her hand, like he doesn't quite want her to leave. "Bring an Ensure, too? I, umm... I need the nutrients. I'm not at terrible risk of refeeding syndrome but... it's best, probably."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael squeezes his hand, looking back towards Jon with an amused look on her features. "Jon, love - I was going to bring it whether you liked it or not," she counters. "Though - whether you drank it or not would've been up to you." She flashes him a smile before slipping her hand free. In the kitchen, she can be heard opening some of the cupboards, running the water into the electric kettle, and setting it to boil. A cup of broth is heated in the microwave, a piece of toast is put in the toaster - she adds a pad of butter and a bit of jam to a plate as well, as she peers dubiously at a container that says 'clotted cream.' That's... supposed to be a good thing? It sounds //vile//.
    Applesauce is scooped into a small bowl, and one of the Ensure 'juice boxes' is added to her slowly growing pile of food. "What sort of tea you want?" she calls - while prying open various tins, and sniffing at them uncertainly. She pours some of the leaves into the strainer once Jon answers. The last time she tried this - she apparently hadn't put enough. ...as is Cael's nature, she over compensates this time, wasting tea and ensuring the leaves won't have enough space to properly expand in the strainer. She's using the teapot she'd bought for Martin - along with both of the cups. After adding a little cream and sugar to her try, she brings the whole lot back, so Jon can pick and choose what he wants, while she settles back in beside him.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Are we out of clotted cream?" Jon asks in an almost petulant tone as he looks over the tray of food. Yes, evidently he /likes/ the stuff. He sighs. "S'pose it's not like it's a proper scone anyway," he mutters, spreading butter on the toast with a glower like the substance has personally offended him. He follows it with jam--at least that's strawberry, thankfully--and then considers the toast for a moment before he sighs and opens the Ensure, taking a small, slow sip and seeing how his stomach handles that.

    "For the last week or so all I've been able to think about half the time has been food," he says. "I haven't been dreaming, at night, but when I was walking I'd think about everything I wanted to eat when I got home. Pizza, and hot dogs, and curry, and noodles, and cream tea. A couple of days ago I spent a good hour imagining just eating an entire wheel of cheddar cheese."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "...you //like// that 'clotted cream' stuff?" Cael says in a tone that doesn't bother to disguise her disgust. "It's... clotted. Next thing you'll tell me is you like moldy cheese." A foodie, Cael is not. The girl needs some serious education.
    "When you're feeling up for it - I can send you some of those hot dogs," she suggests with an amused smile. "I did that for Sara yesterday. I bought them, and handed them to Alis and - poof, she delivered them to the Triskelion, still fresh and piping hot," she explains, flashing Jon a smile - while they let the tea steep.
    "...uh. How long are we supposed to wait before we pour the tea?" she asks in an uncertain tone. At least she knows there's a certain amount of time you're supposed to wait.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon /glowers/ at Cael. "Yes, I like that 'clotted cream stuff.' Why do you think we have it? Clotted cream is an essential part of the culture of southwest England. When this is all over, I am taking you to Devon and you are going to have a proper cream tea, and you can tell me how ridiculous and awful it is," he states firmly.

    Raising a brow at her, he adds, "And yes, I like moldy cheese. Haven't you ever had bleu cheese? Or gorgonzola?" He takes a small bite of the toast and chews slowly, swallows.

    "About four or five minutes," he adds. "I usually set an alarm on my phone. I'm terribly impatient. How much of the loose leaf did you put in this time?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Well - it's in the fridge if you want me to go grab it. I didn't know what it was for - she it sounded... gross," Cael replies with a shrug of her shoulders. "Blue cheese is pretty gross, too," she adds under her breath.
    As for how much tea she added, she looks a little uncertain as she adds, "I put a few scoops with a big spoon." Yes. Probably a couple //tablespoons// of tea in the infuser. ...to make two cups. Why does anyone let her near tea things at all? At least she pulls out her phone to set a timer - for another three minutes.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon closes his eyes. "Oh good lord," he mutters, but his tone holds amusement. "Why did I fall in love with such an... /American/?" He shakes his head, smiling fondly. "It's fine as it is," he adds. "Just... bring it next time? It's really quite good, you ought to try it."

    He's sitting up now, with the tray of food in his lap, but he has to take a moment and rest his head back against the wall behind him. "Sorry I woke you," he says softly. "I tried not to disturb you. Seemed like you needed the rest."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I mean. ...I'm from Phoenix, Jon. I'm pretty sure it doesn't get more American than the South West," Cael says in a dry tone. "...but sure. Next time, I'll bring your clotted cream, and I'll try it. Just to humor you."
    She leans in towards Jon without really thinking - expecting to press her arm against his. Of course, she end up pressing her left arm to his right side instead - though she doesn't comment on it, other than briefly wincing, with a flare of sympathetic pain and concern. It would take some getting used to - for all of them.
    "I didn't sleep well while you were gone. I must have gotten to used to having you there, already," she remarks. That was, of course, only half the story. ...the other half was the anxiety she'd felt over what Jon must have been enduring. "I'll be fine, Jon. It'll be easier to catch up on my sleep now that I know you're safely at home."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I wouldn't mind if you stayed," Jon murmurs softly. "But I know..." He hesitates. Takes another bite of the toast, and very slowly eats it before he begins to speak again.

    "Even in Michael's 'perfect' world, we didn't live together. You were... it wasn't that you had a problem with being 'family' or anything like that. It was just... you wanted your independence. You wanted to be mobile. You'd come stay the night, but..." He shrugs.

    "Point being, I understand if you need to... go home. Be in your own space. Assert your independence. It's okay." A pause. "But don't think you're not welcome, because you are. And if... if you go home, and it's too hard without Sara there, I'm sure we can work something out so you won't have to be alone. Maybe you can Martin can take turns on the couch or something?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Jon can see it and feel it in equal measure - the mixed uncertainty and longing that his words ellicit, as she tries to sort out how she feels about that offer. ...she'll deal with the stuff about Michael's 'perfect' world later.
    "I don't know," she answers quietly. "Now that you're back, I- there's part of me that doesn't want to let you out of my sight for long, if I don't have to. There's precious little I can think of, right now, that I'd want more than to- ...to sleep beside you tonight." There was a strange contradiction in the way that Cael's words - while usually so brash and direct, were also far more hesitant and uncertain when it came to anything personal, making that last statement surprisingly direct.
    "Pretty sure Martin feels the same way, and it wouldn't be right to make him sleep on the couch tonight, with you just back. So. ...I don't know."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Admittedly I'd like the both of you in here with me," Jon says with a sigh, putting down the toast and reaching over to twine his fingers with Cael's. He /wants/ to wrap his arm around her, but... the arm isn't there. It never will be again. He could conjure a prosthetic, but he's not certain he's up to the effort, just now.

    "I've been... terribly lonely," he says softly. "I... I don't mind time alone, generally. I /need/ it, in fact. Time to think, to decompress. But just now... I need you both. I came back for you both. And what if... Martin has to get up in the middle of the night, and I wake up, and nobody's there? What if...?"

    He shakes his head. "We should talk to Martin about it, really. See what he thinks, one way or another."

    He glances over. "So, umm... I like your hair. And the tattoo. It's all... very you."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Yes," Cael agrees softly. "We should." She hesitates only a moment before adding, "I wouldn't want you to be alone, either. Not unless you'd expressly kicked both our asses out the door." She tilts her head up to give him a kiss on his jaw - but is finds herself re-aiming it to the corner of his lips - thanks to the beard still covering much of his features.
    The alarm on Cael's phone goes off as Jon is commenting on her hair - and she turns it off, before running her fingers through her hair to reveal the hidden colors once again. "Because I'm so deeply into the Golden State Warriors?" Cael asks in a teasing tone, before she pours two cups of the tea, oblivious to what affect overfilling the strainer might have had. More is more - right? She picks up her cup to take a sip, and she's staring down into the cup as she adds more quietly, and more seriously, "They- the hair, and the tattoo, they both made me feel closer to you, in a way," she admits. "As did visiting the tree."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon reaches up to ruffle the strands of hair himself, smiling. "I like it," he says. "I like that we match. Well. When I have wings, anyway."

    A shadow crosses his face, a haunted expression in his eyes. "Cael, I... I need to... I think we should talk. About... what's happening to me." He reaches up to run a hand through his own hair, frowning slightly, thoughtfully.

    It's a measure of the weight of what he wants to talk about that he doesn't even comment on the way Cael made the tea, just puts cream and sugar in the mug and then stirs it with a frown.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I thought you might," Cael confirms, flashing him a brief smile. "Who knows what colors I'll do next time, but- ...this time, it felt right."
    She takes another sip of the tea, trying to ignore the worried twist she feels at the heaviness of his words. She lowers the cup to her lap, holding in both hands, as she tilts her head to study her features. "What is it, Oruguita?" she asks gently. "I'm all ears - and I'm here for you. Yeah?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon blinks at her. "Caterpillar? That's..." He laughs, suddenly. "Do you know, that's actually quite appropriate?" He sighs, and takes a longer drink of tea, and then another slow bite of toast.

    "Have I ever told you about my friend Moon Knight? He's a costumed vigilante, operates in Queens mostly. He's also an avatar of Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon." He frowns. "Some years back, he was in Egypt, and he died beneath a certain statue of Khonshu. The god had already chosen him as a potential avatar, and when he died, he was raised again, given power to protect those who travel in the night." He glances up at the ceiling. "I prayed to him--to Khonshu, I mean--to help grant me safe passage, these last weeks. I think he did."

    He sighs, and shifts a bit. "That's how our gods work, it seems. Through proxies, more than anything direct, the way the Asgardians do. They choose mortals to be their avatars--as Agnes is for Sekhmet. I've met avatars of Neith and Nephthys and Bast. Some are born that way. Some are made."

    He hesitates, and looks at Cael, as if wondering if she can see where this is going.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "It's from a song," Cael offers quietly. "I've been listening to it a lot, lately."
    At Jon's questions about Moon Knight, she offers a shake of her head in response, listening curiously and attentively to his explination, her expression solemn.
    "What you're saying is you think you'll become one of these avatars," she surmises. "After we bring you back from Duat? ...an avatar of the Goddess we saw this morning? Or a different once?" she asks. "She had your wings...
    "What will becoming an avatar mean, exactly? What will change? What will stay the same?" How much of Jon will still be Jon?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head. "I don't /think/ so, Cael. I /know/ so. I spoke to her, at the end of my journey. Ma'at. Goddess of truth, and balance, and justice."

    He sighs. "She's had her eye on me since I was a child, evidently. After that whole business with the... the book, and the giant spider." He frowns, and winces, briefly. "I was so adamant about the /truth/ of what had happened, even in the face of ridicule and persecution by the adults around me. I haven't always been truthful in my life, but I've... always /tried/ to be. I've striven to see what lies beneath a thing. I've tried to find balance, to uphold harmony..."

    He looks toward the far wall, expression distant. "When I became Archivist... I thought I was serving Thoth, but it's been Ma'at that I've felt closest to. I've been driven to uncover the truth of things, to bring balance and order to things. To uphold justice." He sighs heavily. "I think it would have happened eventually, regardless of any of this Champion business. I would've come close to dying, or maybe actually died, and met her, and... changed. The last few weeks just... started the process."

    He looks back at Cael, finally. "I don't know exactly what it will mean. Ma'at... see, the thing is, back in my ancestors' time, Ma'at didn't really have an avatar. She didn't need one. The Pharoah was the 'Lord of Maat' who decreed with his words the ma'at he conceived in his heart. By which I mean... ma'at is also a word for... law, and justice. She created order out of disorder. Ra placed her out in the world to be rid of isfet, of chaos, before the first sunrise."

    He smirks. "The upshot being... even /she/ doesn't know what my being her avatar will mean. The last time she had a direct avatar she wasn't called Ma'at, and Egypt wasn't even called Kemet yet. It's been a very, /very/ long time."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael listens quietly, shifting slightly towards Jon so she can watch him more easily as he speaks. Her expression remains solemn as she takes in his words - nodding on occassion, but not interrupting. When he finishes speaking, she reaches across his body to rest one hand on his arm, while she spends a few moments trying to sort out her thoughts and feelings.
    If she clamed this didn't fighten her... that would be a lie. Could she bring him back from Duat, only to have lost him after all? Will he be changed beyond all recognition? Will he even be human anymore? Will //he// even want //her// anymore? There's no way to know.
    "I promised I'd be with you, and help you get as well as I could. I promised I'd go to the underworld, and find you, and bring you back. I've promised to see you through all of this... and I will. Because I assume that's what you still want? Because... I assume we still have no other choice? And because I love you, Jonatham Sims, and turning from you when you need me would... tear me to bits."
    She takes a deep breath in, and it's shakey on the way out before she speaks again. "When we come out the other side of this... We'll find out who've both become, and if we still work together. We'll learn each other all over again, and see where we stand."
    Reaching for her phone, she pulls a business card out of a pocket attached to the back of the phone. It simply says 'Titans' and has a phone number on it. "That's Fairchild's direct line. I think she's going to work with us - and she feels awful, about attacking you at the end of that last fight."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon studies Cael for a long moment, expression patient, and tender. Then he says, softly, "I've been on my way to becoming this since I was eight years old, love. I think... I think I'll still be /me/, at my core. I think I'll be /more/ myself. I think I won't be able to lie anymore. Refrain from saying something, maybe, but lie? No. I'm all but certain I won't be able to do that."

    He reaches out to cup her cheek. "I proved myself to Ma'at, turning away from Michael's lie. It hurt, more than anything I've ever done. But... when I was in there, and I was tempted to stay... it was /your/ voice that came to me, first. Reminding me of the truth, however much it hurt." He smiles. "So I think... I think it's all going to turn out alright, in the end. I really do."

    He hesitates a moment, then says, "I want to live. I know that, more than ever. I could have given up, in that desert. Just stopped walking, and waited to die of thirst or starvation. But I kept going. I kept walking. So yes, that's still what I want."

    He takes the card, but doesn't comment on it just yet. Instead he says, "Cael... can you... I won't force you to tell me how you're feeling. But I... I'd /appreciate/ it, if..." He reaches over to take her hand. "Talk to me, if you can. Whatever... fear or anger you're having... just... express it? I'm... I'm doing better than I was, yesterday. I can handle it, now. I... haven't been fair to you, the last few weeks. Asking you to keep things under wraps, to bottle things up. So go ahead and... and... /talk/. I... hate that somewhere along the way I got you so worried about expressing yourself. I'm sorry."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael leans her head towards that hand on her cheek, a small smile on her features. It's a little tense, and uneasy, but it's there. "I have to believe that too," she answers. Because believing anything else would hurt too much, and be too cruel. There has to be some sort of happiness for them on the otherside of all this suffering. There has to be. "And that we'll figure it out together. ...all of us."
    As she talks about //her// feelings, though, her body begins to go tense, something akin to fear or panic creeping into her eyes. "I- Oh, God, Jon, are you sure you're ready for something like that? You're just back from- I wouldn't want to hurt you." Leaning towards the tray, she sets aside her cup of tea - afraid of spilling it if her emotions start to get the best of her. Even without beginning to speak on her feelings, tears begin welling into her eyes.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Hey," Jon says, and reaches out to catch her hand. "I... yes. Look, I... earlier, it wasn't you or Martin, it was... all the /other/ people. I... I don't know. I'm not ready for... people." He frowns. "I don't know... if I'll be ready for 'people' properly until... ever? After Duat at least?" He sighs.

    "I /need/ to be able to... to express ourselves. To just talk, about what we feel, when we're together, and not feel like we need to lie to each other. If you have to hold in your pain and sorrow around me, how am I being a good boyfriend? If I don't trust that I can break down and cry and you'll hold me, how are you being a good girlfriend?"

    He frowns. "It's... I realized I've been... I /know/ you'll be there, if I need you. The first time you kissed me, you were comforting me. Why would I think you yelling or throwing up or... or... panicking would mean you wouldn't help /me/ if /I/ needed the help? It's not you, doing that. It's been me. Refusing to be vulnerable. Refusing to ask for help." He jiggles the IV line a little. "Well, now I don't exactly have a choice, do I?"

    Here," he says. "Help me move the tray, and then you can... tell me everything. It was just... earlier, it felt... I don't know. Prying eyes. It was in front of other people, was all. I could feel them... watching, and I didn't want them... gods, I don't know. Doesn't matter, now."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "There- ...there's been a lot I've been trying real hard //not// to feel, Jon. To- to put it off until later, when- when all of this shit's finally over. There's- there's a lot," Cael explains - without really //explaining// anythings. As she talks, she shifts enough to get the tray off the bed, and move it to a bedside table where it'll be safer, before she returns to sit next Jon, staring down at the blankets, then over at the man beside her, and finally fixedly at her hands.
    "I've been going through hell," she says bluntly. "But I've been- you've needed me, with everything you've had to face, with all the weight you've had to carry, with- with the thought of torture looming, and death, and- how could... how could I put any of my shit on you, when what you're facing must be so much worse? When //you're// needed //me//?" she asks - with tears streaking slowly down her cheeks.
    "But it's been hell."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "We need each /other/," Jon says bluntly. "And... how can I ask you to go through all of this, /watch/ me go through all of this, without support? I know you have Sara, and Alis, and Martin, and Wilson, but..."

    He reaches out to stroke her head, to lift the strands gently and see the colors. "If... if we get used to some idea that only whichever one of us is facing down direct horror can express themselves... Cael, I remember how much it hurt, to watch you go through everything with Michael. How hard it was, how /bitter/ I was, biting my tongue and holding things in. I don't want that, for you. It's one thing for you to swallow your pain when we're in the middle of a battle, or down in Duat... but, love, /you're/ going down there too. I'm taking the easy route. You have to eat a bug." He smirks at her.

    Then he reaches out to cup her cheek and looks at her quite seriously. "Like it or not, our relationship is predicated on a certain amount of... you lean on me. You need me. Earlier, the way you relaxed in my arms, it... it was like an epiphany. You were hurting, and panicking, until I held you, and then everything was... not okay, but managable. So... I'm here, now. I'm okay, now. I'm alive. So now is the time to... to open up, and get it out. To process, before we have to deal with this last painful change."

    He frowns, and swallows, then says softly, "Are you mad at me?" A pause. "It's... okay if you are. I'd understand. I promise, nothing... no judgement. I love you. I want to... to understand you."

Cael Becker has posed:
    The comment about the bug gets a quiet, almost bitter laugh, as little by little the tears increase in speed. The ache in her chest grows until it's almost a physical pain, as her gaze is lifted to his own - before she abrutly tucks herself in against this chest. "I- no? I don't- I don't think so. A little I don't know, I- Fuck, Jon, I had to walk you to Michael. I had to walk you to Michael, and hand you over to the man who- who tortured me. You disappeared. All the angels disappeared and I- I wanted- I wanted to just shatter."
    She lets out a bitter sound, that's trapped somewhere between a laugh, and a sob. "But I had to go to that meeting. Play the message. Tell- tell everyone not to save you. B-because- we-we couldn't. He's too powerful, we- we couldn't. And they kept saying they wanted to go after you and- I wanted to scream." Both arms cling tightly around Jon as she continues to talk through her desperate sobs.
    "And then- and then people were saying we- we have- we could take... a break. A three day break. To rest. To //fucking rest//!" she shouts. "Wh-while you're being- Fuck them! And none of them- none of them could see- none of them asked... I was hurting so much, and- A-Alis w-was the only one w-who..."
    She hugs her arms even tighter of Jon - suddenly heedless, in her own pain, of whether or not Jon's thin frame still ached from all it'd endured. "I-I tried to- to stay busy. Find Amit's... family. T-try to meet with Fairchild, and Lady Death. T-try to be- be near you. T-to talk to you. T- to hope that- that somehow... show you'd- I didn't think you'd hear me." And I couldn't sleep, and- I couldn't- I couldn't let m-myself feel, 'cuz I'd just- I'd... break, and- and you needed me. You needed me strong, when- when you came back to- to- so I could- to- to get you re-ready t-to... to get you w-well. I- God, Jon."
    She finally breaks down into wordless sobs, still clinging to him as she weeps out everything she's been holding... for weeks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon closes his eyes as he listens, letting his own tears fall. For a moment, when she says 'none of them asked,' he clenches his hand into a fist. But then he unclenches the fist, and reaches around to rub Cael's back, slowly. Letting her cry it all out. Letting her break down.

    "It's okay," he murmurs. "It's... it's okay."

    He waits until the sobbing's at least slowed before he says, "I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry I put all of this on you, and then... gods, Cael, I fucked up. I fucked up /so/ bad." He laughs. "I mean, I fucked... /everything/ up, but especially... you. I was so scared of... of being hurt. Of being vulnerable. I should have let you do this, as often as you needed."

    He stares at the far wall. "Of course they saw it as a rest. Why wouldn't they? It's not right there in front of them." He sighs. "I... am honestly unsure of what I want to do with myself, when this is done. I think... I think I believe in SHIELD. I /know/ I want to be with you and Martin. But literally everything else? I... don't know. I'm tired of giving more than I get. To hear that people... that it didn't even occur to them to... to ask how you were? I know they were tired, and hurting, but..." He sighs. "Of course... maybe they didn't /know/. About us, I mean. Our relationship. I... I don't know. I'm not making decisions right now. But I'm sorry."

    He swallows. "Thank you for... for talking to Caitlin. For trying to... for everything you did. But you don't... I don't want you to break yourself, trying to be 'strong' for me, Cael. I don't want you to lie about what you can handle, or... pretend you're not mad just because I'm hurting."

    His hand stills on her back. "Do you need to yell at me? For... leaving you? For asking you to walk me to the Cathedral? For dying on you?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "N-none of this is okay. It's not. It's not okay," Cael counters. "It's //shit//. Fucking Michael." She heaps all her pain, and anger, and hurt on him - because why be mad at the people you love - when you could be mad at an Archangel instead?
    Besides - it was his fault.
    "I n-n-needed to talk to Caitlin 'cuz- I... I... I needed to know we could b-bring you back. H-how was I supposed to help you heal, and- and face death, if we didn't even know if- So I had three days, and I needed- But I still need Lady Death."
    As he asks if she wants to yell at him she answers softly, "I want to scream. ...but not at you. I just- I want to scream. It all... hurts so much."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Then scream," Jon says softly. "Into the pillow if you're worried about disturbing Agnes, I suppose." He sighs.

    "I can tell you where to find Lady Death... but it might be near-impossible for you to find on your own. Her sanctum isn't visible to normal mortal eyes. Maybe you can take someone else, I don't know." He frowns. "I don't think she likes me much, but..." A shrug.

    "I understand Michael now," he adds. "I was entirely right in some ways... and entirely wrong in others. Do you... /want/ to know?" He peers at her. "I can tell you... if you think it might help."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael shakes her head slightly. "Gotta go out to... the woods 'r something. To scream," she counters, still hiding her face against his chest. The ache in her heart was slowly lessening. It wouldn't go completely - of course it wouldn't - but it was better than the amount of pain she'd been carrying, and ignoring.
    "I dunno if it would help - I'll still hate him. But you can tell me..." she inviteds.
    "And then I can teach you the song that's been keeping me sane. ....Oruguita."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon smiles, but only for a moment. "It, ummm..." He sighs. "I saw... everything. The creation of the universe. The Presence. It was... a /lot/." He frowns. "It didn't break me. I think he thought it would, but..." He shakes his head.

    "He was created to be a... a companion for the Presence. Someone for Them to talk to. And then They created... Lucifer, and the other archangels, and for a while they were all together. A... family, you know? But then the Presence... moved on, to focus on mortals. And They tasked Michael and Lucifer with creating the universe."

    He sighs, and leans his head back against the wall. "So Michael and his brother created our universe, and then Lucifer, upset by the Presence's focus on mortals... or at least, that's how Michael views it... Fell. The Presence tasked Michael with taking his brother in hand, so he did. And Michael took the Demiurgic Force from Lucifer, doubling what he already had, and then... and then he was alone." A pause. "And then he found out the universe they'd created was flawed. He tried to fix it, but nothing worked. He tried again and again, and... nothing... worked. He was almost /grateful/ for this... game, because maybe, /maybe/ there'll be a better way than what he's been trying to do."

    He frowns. "He's a /child/, Cael. However unfathomably old he is... emotionally speaking, he's a child. He /cannot/ be emotionally mature, he's not /meant/ to have the kind of power and emotions he has. But the Presence never bothered to tell him to give the power back, so he's still... holding onto it. I mean..." He huffs out a breath. "From Michael's perspective... he did /everything/ right. He followed every order, every command. He listened and recorded, he created a universe, he hurt his beloved brother, all at the Presence's behest. And yet, /everything/ he tried to do failed. His universe is flawed and he doesn't know why. His brother is loafing around on Earth instead of in Hell where he's supposed to be. And the Presence isn't giving him /any/ guidance, when he desperately needs it. He feels alone and betrayed--by /God/. But he's not Lucifer--he's not going to disobey. He's still trying to do what his parent told him to do, in the way They told him to do it."

    He shakes his head. "On some level... I feel sorry for him," he admits. "Not enough to let him get away with what he's trying to do. But enough to understand why Gaea chose me, finally."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael listens in silence, shifting in Jon's arms so her ear rests against his chest, to hear his voice rumbling. It's still one of the most soothing things she knows - whether he's speaking or singing, and right now she needs that comfort - desperately.
    As he finishes the explination, she shakes her head from side to side, a frown pulling deeply at her lips. "A child?" she repeats quietly. "With... //that// much power?" How can that be right? That's... beyond dangerous. "But the other Archangels don't seem like children. And even if he is... I can't forgive him. I don't. //Ever//. Not- not after all he's put us through. I hate him. I hate God. I always will."
    There's a momentary pause before she adds, "Uriel became mortal - to walk in through your wards and speak at the meeting. ... and I punched him, when he could really feel it. I mean, he's not really... the one I'm angry at, but //fuck// it felt good to punch a fucking angel and have it be a... real hit."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "The other archangels don't /feel/ as much as Michael feels. Or maybe it's that they do, but they're able to better handle it, because they've been able to... let go? Move on?" Jon frowns and shakes his head. "Maybe, when he finally gives up the power, Michael will actually be able to... grow up."

    He sighs. "But I finally understand, everything he's trying to do. He doesn't want to remove free will because he thinks it's dangerous or he wants control--he's trying to give people what /he/ wants. He misses the guiding hand of a loving parent. He's lost and confused and alone, and he's trying to give the whole world what /he/ needs. People give what they need, most of the time." He smiles. "Like... with you and Bear. You kept leaving Bear with me because he helped /you/, so you assumed he'd help /me/. I love Bear, don't get me wrong... but he's not what I need." He sighs. "I'm patient with people, I accept them as they are... because I want someone to be patient with me. Accept me as I am. And sometimes, that's not what someone might need."

    He shakes his head. "I offered him compassion and sympathy... and he struck me. And that's when I realized why Gaea chose me." He smirks. "Not because I'm a scholar, or a healer, or a therapist... or even a warrior, as Michael finally got me to admit that I /am/." He sighs. "No. She chose me because I'm a /parent/. And I am quite capable of giving Michael what he needs--a time out and a lesson on expressing his emotions properly. Followed, one presumes, by appropriate consequences for his actions."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Appropriate consequences?" Cael asks quietly. "What are the appropriate consequences for all these deaths? For Amit? For- what he did to me? For... your arm? How do we ever balance that scale?" She honestly doesn't believe it's even remotely possible.
    She sighs then adds quietly, "I'd like to get a hit in on him once, just once, that he really feels." But she doubts she ever will. She falls in a brief silence before adding softly, "When you're ready to - you should probably call Caitlin. She- well. I think she feels awful for everything she did. She feels manipulated and lied to - though I tried to tell her that Michael can't lie. She regrets it all, blames herself..."
    Cael rubs her face then adds - with a hint of frustration, "She was horrified that Michael was torturing you - like this was news to her. Like I hadn't already told her- anyways. She wanted to ride off and rescue you, and I had to tell her that wasn't possible. But- ...she thinks she owes you, and that she'll never make it up to the world, the harm she's caused, so- ... when you're ready. You talk to her, yeah?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I don't quite know yet," Jon says quietly. "But I don't think hurting him is going to help. I think him letting go of the power will help. Letting us move on, and fix things. Trying to... atone. I know you're angry, and maybe you'll never be able to forgive him. I don't know if I can, either. But I know..."

    He sighs. "I meant what I said on the recording, about vengeance. It doesn't make things better. It just makes us worse. I don't want vengeance, for what Michael did to me. I want this to be over. I want him to fix what he broke, or get out of the way so we can fix things. I want to move /on/. I want to /heal/. And I want my friend back down off that bloody door."

    He's quiet for a long, long moment. Then he says, softly, "When I'm ready for... people, yeah, I'll call Caitlin. I don't know if I can... it's not that I'm mad at her? It's just... navigating... conversation. I'm not worried about... saying the wrong thing, with you. About breaking down. Caitlin... I don't know. But I'll talk to her. Soon."

    He turns to look at her. "How's everyone else doing? How's Sara? Did... is New York... are people coming back? Doing okay?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "When you're ready," Cael repeats gently, tilting her head back, and putting one hand behind Jon's neck to try to draw him down towards her for a gentle kiss. She still needs him so badly, so desperately... She was so glad he was back. And relatively whole. "I want to stay with you tonight, Jon. If Martin'll- if we can all stay together. I don't want to be apart. I //need// you."
    With that said, she takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly. "Sara's doing alright - better than I thought. She's, uhh... she's been trying to support me. She's the only one that has, really. Her, and Alis, and Martin - as much as he can. She want me to tell you she's thinking of you, and praying to Gaea on your behalf- apparently. I haven't really kept tabs on anyone else. I've just been... I've been trying to get shit done. It was my only way of staying sane. Well, that and the damned song." That she's kept on repeat.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon does not resist the kiss. He seems to need it himself; he lingers there for a moment, before letting her pull away.

    "I'm honestly not certain anyone else /knows/ about us, Cael," Jon points out. "People... I don't know. People can be dense." He shakes his head. "I'm done feeling bitter about that, though. If people are going to be there, then they are... and if they're not, they're not. I can't control that, or change it."

    He hesitates, then leans down to kiss Cael again. Pulls back and murmurs, "Stay with me then." Then kisses her some more. The kissing is nice.

    After a little while of that, though, he sighs and says, "I should eat some more... and you can play this song for me, that kept you going...? How do I not know this song?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael returns each and every kiss in kind, her arms holding Jon close, drinking up the comfort of his presence - of having him back in her arms again, like she'd longed for so desperately over three miserable days of painful uncertainty.
    "Because... when I was feeling my lowest, I'd disappear somewhere, and listen, and- annd piece myself back together."
    Cael does play the song for Jon, though - it's one of those rare moments where she sings it. She doesn't always hit the right notes, and she struggles with the range of the song, and the key - but she knows the words, as she tells the story of two caterpillars, learning to love each other - and learning to let go, so they can grow and change, in a cold, ever changing world, preparing for a future where they become butterflies and find one another once more. She squeezes Jon's hand, as she looks up into his eyes, a few tears moistening her eyes as she sings the song for him.