12018/Last Doctor's Visit

Last Doctor's Visit
Date of Scene:	13 July 2022
Location:	John Radcliffe Hospital, Oxford, England
Synopsis:	Cael rushes to meet Jon in the hospital, to find out what happened to his eyes. He proposes a dangerous solution to the problem of his conenction to the Old Ones, and they find out he shows up oddly to medical technology. At least the full moon was fun!
Cast of Characters:	Cael Becker, Jonathan Sims

---

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael appears just outside the John Radcliffe hospital, earning a few startled looks from passersby - which she ignores as she dashes inside, going to the first desk she can find. "Jonathan Sims," she demands abruptly. "Sims - S I M S, and Jonathan, J O N A T H A N. Only one h. What room is he in?"
    "I'm sorry, uhh, Miss...?"
    "Becker. Cael Becker."
    "Miss Becker - are you fam-"
    "YES. I'm family. What room is he in?" Already frustrated by the woman's slow response, she pulls out her phone to finally call Agnes.
    "Look, if I could see some ID-"
    Cael slaps first her FBI badge, and then her SHIELD badge down, and gives the woman a glare before it shifts to an impatient look at her phone instead. "Oh, com'on, you told me to call you!" she practically shouts at her phone in impatience.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes doesn't pick up the phone.

    However, an orderly comes out from somewhere in the depths of the facility, looking like she's been running. "Ms. Becker? Ahh, yes, come with me, it's fine, Nancy." This to the woman at the desk. "Please come with me."

    The orderly takes Cael through the doors of the A&E waiting room and back into the actual patient rooms. She hands Cael over to a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a concerned expression. "Cael Becker? Dr. Elwes. Your... daughter...?" Cael is clearly /not/ old enough to be Agnes' mother. He clears his throat. "They told us you'd be coming."

Cael Becker has posed:
    The look Cael gives the poor woman at the desk clearly says 'See, Nancy?' as she scoops up her IDs. These are pocketed, along with her phone, as she follows the orderly, striding quickly to force the woman to keep a similar pace in order to guide her. As she reaches the doctor she seems both somewhere mollified, and worried. Why is she being brought to a doctor first - and not Jon?
    "She's Jon's daughter," Cael says a bit flatly. "What's happened? Are they alright? Agnes' messages were a bit... vague. I was- ...I was rather occupied or I would have come sooner."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "He's stable, and cooperative," Dr. Elwes says. "But I do have to ask, Ms. Becker--does Dr. Sims have any history of self-harm? He insists that he does not need to see a psychiatrist, and given his credentials I would normally agree, but--"

    There's something in the man's voice, and his expression, that hints at dire things. Jon /has/ been suicidal, after all. Did he try to kill himself? Why would he have done that, and left Agnes to find the body?

Cael Becker has posed:
    "What?" Cael asks in surprise. "I- no. I mean, I've- we've only been together for six months," Cael admits. "But in that time he's never- He wouldn't hurt himself." Wouldn't he? He's been through so mch lately... "Fuck."
    She starts to pace the room, clearly aggitated as she asks, "What did he do? I mean- what happened? What's wrong with him?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "There's been damage to his eyes," the doctor says gently. "He hasn't been very forthcoming about--"

    A nurse walks over, glances at Cael, and lowers her voice. Cael can still pick up the whisper, though: "There's something wrong with 4B's bloodwork." The room Jon's in? 4B.

    Dr. Elwes sighs, and says to Cael, "Why don't you go ahead and go inside? I'm sure he'll be glad that you're here. I need to see to this." He gestures Cael to head into the room.

    Inside, Jon lies on a bed in a hospital gown, hooked up to various monitors and an IV drip. The potential damage is immediately obvious: there's a bandage around their head, wrapped around their eyes.

    Before Cael can get very far into the room, Agnes has thrown herself into the FBI agent's arms. "Cael!! Oh thank the gods! It's been just awful, Dad was screaming and I couldn't wake them up and--"

Cael Becker has posed:
    What could be wrong with Jon's bloodwork? Cael doesn't ask, but she doesn't miss the fact that the room she was just gestured towards, was the room that was just mentioned.
    She makes her way into the room - stiffening for a moment, and then wrapping her arms around Agnes as she's abruptly hugged. "I'm sorry," is the first thing she breathes. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there. I-" What choice did she have, though? What good could she possibly have done? She squeezes the girl tightly, as she repeats the words. "I'm sorry."
    Her attention shifts to Jon, though she doesn't let go of Agnes just yet. The girl obviously needed the reassurance - and she could get to Jon soon enough. "I'm here now, love."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It's not her fault, Agnes." Jon sounds... tired. "It's the full moon. I'm fairly certain that's why it happened last night, and not Sunday night. They came at me when Cael wasn't there to help."

    Agnes sniffles. "Dad's been no help," she grouses. "He didn't want to worry you, and didn't want to come to A&E, and--"

    A sigh. "What are they going to do, Agnes? They'll regrow." That sounds... oddly resigned. "And how exactly am I supposed to explain... /any/ of this, hmm? Doctors ask questions. As you may have noticed."

    Agnes finally pulls back out of the hug, to give Jon a glare, then looks back at Cael as if to say 'see?' Then she huffs and goes to drop into a folding chair next to the bed. "They've been like this the /whole bloody time/," she mutters.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "They'll regrow," Cael repeats, making her way to Jon's bed. She makes an assessment, trying to decide which side of the bed has fewer tubes and wires - before she attempts to squeeze herself in right next to Jon, and put her arm around them. "Your eyes? They're- completely gone?" How the //fuck// does that even- Jon could do a lot of things out of madness, she's sure. They've been through so much - but pluck out their own eyes? No. No way.
    "Love, if you hated the green //that// much, I'm sure we could have found another solution," she remarks, trying to bring in just the slightest amount of levity, as she gives a reassuring squeeze.
    "I'm sorry I wasn't there," she adds.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "It wasn't--" Jon sighs, and shifts a bit, to let Cael have some space. The right side's easier; the prosthetic isn't there at all, so the needle and pulse oximeter and everything is on the left. Once she's settled, he goes on, "It was a nightmare. Like Rien's. Or Robbie's. It was--bad."

    A pause. "Agnes? Make sure there's nobody lurking? If they could bug the room they wouldn't be so damned persistent about getting me to admit I was trying to kill myself or something."

    Agnes gets up, checks through the curtain, then goes to sit back down. "It's fine, Dad. Nobody nearby."

    Jon sighs. "Right. So. I was having an Archivist dream of the statement I took from Rien on Sunday. I saw the other timeline. What happened there." A pause. "It was... bad. Very, very bad. Everyone on Earth, and I do mean /everyone/, was stuck in these places, these 'domains,' where they were living through horrible torture while others fed on the fear. And humanity was going to go extinct. No children were being born, and while many of the domains would kill people and then revive them some were just... killing people."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "It was an attempt at a joke, love," Cael explains. "Not a good one, apparently." She lets out a sigh, then gives him a gentle kiss on the cheek, before listening to the explination.
    "It sounds- yeah. Pretty awful," she admits. "Glad we're, uh- glad that's not us. Not our- we won't let it get like that. They didn't have magic or superheroes or anything over there, you said. This world will be different. This reality." She gives him a reassuring squeeze.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon swallows. "Maybe. You haven't heard the whole thing yet."

    He fiddles with the bed sheet for a moment before going on, "I... I think I'd killed Jonah. And I was hanging in this... umm... it was sort of like a mystical... well, it was 'the Panopticon,' it was this high tower that could see /everything/. I was... taking over, sort of? Basically I was becoming the god of the world, and I couldn't change it, put things back the way they should have been, and I couldn't stop people being tortured, so I was going to... speed up the end of the world. Shorten everyone's suffering, shuffle people to the domains where they'd actually die."

    Agnes gasps. "That's--wasn't there another way?"

    A pause. Then Jon says grimly, "Yes. Releasing the Fears, the Old Ones, to other realities. Through a crack in reality under a house at Hill Top Road."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Save your reality, by dooming another?" Cael asks quietly. "Or... end it all there. End everyone's pain," Cael surmises, wincing. Not an easy choice. "No good choice there, huh?"
    She gives Jon a squeeze before she adds quietly, "It was someone like you - but it wasn't you. Not... //my// Jon. Our Jon." She lets out a heavy sigh before she adds, "And as awful as it was, I- can't say he made the wrong choice."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Cael, please. /Please/. I don't--I know you're trying to help but you don't need to keep saying that. That it 'wasn't me.' Because--it's not as true as you think it is. Okay? So it's not reassuring. And it's not what I need right now. Please, just... let me finish."

    Jon sighs. "Martin showed up. My Martin. /Our/ Martin. He had to--our friends were carrying out the plan to spread the Fears elsewhere. They, umm... they were going to destroy the tower. Martin was going to die. So I... I told him to kill me. I let them spread out so I could save Martin." They sigh. "Except... it didn't work, really. We wound up... here, somehow. I don't quite know..."

    They shake their head again. "I wound up in darkness, and I didn't--I wasn't sure which one I was. But it's /me/, Cael. At the base level, it's /me/. Another version of me, maybe, but we share a soul. We share a voice, and personality. There are /so/ many people that overlap. The same childhood. Gertrude Robinson wasn't his grandmother, but she /was/ the former Archivist. I found Martin, here, and married him. I never met Agnes, but I knew of her. It..."

    He sighs. "That's... not really important right now. The... the next part is what's important, it's just... hard." They flex their hand, grasping at the bedsheet.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael frowns, her gaze flicking towards Agnes to see what she thinks of all this, as she lapses into silence to let Jon speak, tucked in beside them, with one arm holding them firmly to her. She listens - she really does, her expression strained, but intent as she tries to understand what they're trying to say.
    "I- love, I don't see how any of that contradicts what I said. You may be essentially the same as this other Jon, I get that, I do. But- it's still not you."
    She lets out a sigh, then asks softly, "What happened next?" Is that what happened to their eyes? What if they don't grow back? What if Jon is //blind// now? How will she help them learn to cope with that?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yes, it--Cael, I felt this version of me when I died. And others, too. I... why is this so damned /important/ to you? That it isn't /me/? Why am I not allowed to say 'no, it /is/?'" Jon turns their head toward Cael, furrows their brow, almost as if they can see her.

    "I mean it. You keep repeating that, like a damn mantra. You're not listening to what I'm trying to say here. That it /is/ me. That that's what I feel, and that's what I'm dealing with."

    Agnes is frowning down at her hands, picking at the fabric of her gloves like she's considering taking them off.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I- I'm sorry. I just- I'm trying to understand, Jon. I really am," Cael promises, reaching across Jon's body to gently twine her fingers up with theirs, careful of the pulseox.
    She takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly as she adds, "All I'm trying to say is- as similar as you both are, I mean- As much as that Jon feels the same, thinks the same, makes... the same or similar choices- you were born here. This is your world, not that one. You have me - he didn't. You have Agnes. It's- it's almost the same, nearly the same, but there are little differences, right? He feels like you. He thinks like you... but- you're the only you I know. You're the only one I care about. You're //my// Jon, however many others might be out there in other realities. I- am I wrong in that? What am I not understanding?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I came from there, Cael. My /soul/ came from there. I /was/ that man, once. If... if not for this crack in reality, you never would have met me. Or Martin, or Agnes. Or Alya, although--I think she was Sasha, there, which is odd." Jon furrows his brow, briefly, then shakes his head. "It's a past version of me. Maybe not quite the same anymore, but--the things he did, the choices he made... I might have made them too. I'm more likely to fight, but is that just because I grew up in this world, where there are superheroes? Is that the lesson of the past incarnation? To get up and /fight/ instead of being afraid all the bloody time?"

    A pause, and then, "I am responsible for the choices he made. Does that make sense? And his memories are in the Archive now. He is a past life. We share a soul." They lift their hand, complete with Cael's, and press it to their chest. "We share a heart. He--he would've liked you, I think." A laugh. "You would've made him feel safe. He was more terrified of the world than I am. I didn't think that was possible."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Wait- I-" Cael falls silent, turning Jon's words over in her mind. "He died in that tower... and his soul slipped through a- a crack between realities, and came here? But- what, with your grandmother's soul, too? With Martin's, with Agnes', with- hell, with that fuckin' Elias, or Jonah, or whatever the fuck asshole's soul, too? But then- I mean, Jonah was //old//, right? So all that shit- he was born- This other reality would have fallen... two hundred years ago? More? And all of this has just been... been percolating ever since?" she asks, trying to understand.
    It all seemed so... unlikely, but-

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head. "No, Cael, it--these things, they're outside time. Everyone who'd been connected to the Fears, they got dragged here along with them, yes. I wouldn't be surprised to run into... all sorts of people from that world, or reflections of them. I don't quite know why /this/ reality. I think that must have something to do with Rien. She's the gateway and I'm the key, remember? And it... it turned out that trying to trap them wouldn't have worked anyway, because they're connected to the Old Gods. So it's just..." He sighs.

    "It's happening at the same time. Or, well, technically three years ago, but--this isn't linear, okay? It's not... it doesn't work like that."

    "You're avoiding the subject," Agnes says suddenly, still staring at her hands. "It's just time travel, Cael. It's another timeline. That's all. None of this is what matters, though, right?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Okay. I- well. I think I've got it as much as I'm going to get it, Jon," Cael says in a wry tone. It doesn't make sense to her - it won't make sense to her. But... Jon believes it, it's their //truth,// and she can accept it - or argue about something she doesn't understand. Only one of those choices is even remotely constructive.
    "What happened next?"
    She follows this question with a squeeze and a whispered, gentle reminder, "I wasn't there last night - but I'm here now, love. Okay? I'm right here."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon... hesitates. Swallows. Shudders so hard Cael can feel it, and their heartbeat speeds up.

    "Th-there was a spider. /The/ Spider. Mother of Puppets, she called herself. And... and the Ceaseless Watcher. Predictably enough, a giant eye." Another shudder. "She had me caught in a web of cassette tape. And the Watcher, it... it could see... everything. It /knew/ me. Everything I... /everything/. It could predict every move." The fear in his voice is almost palpable.

    "They offered for me to... join them." A shaky laugh. "I told them to fuck off."

    A long, shuddering breath. "B-but... but then... they said... the Watcher, it said, 'You will serve. Already you have served countless times. One more will be no more difficult.'" He sniffles. "I... I c-can't cry. Oh, gods, I can't cry. But they were right, Cael. I already--I already have. Here. I already..."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Fuck off was the right answer," Cael replies with approval - and just a little amusement, despite the grim topic. She turns her head to give them another gentle kiss before she whispers a reminder, "I'm right here, love. Remember? You're not alone. You didn't have me last time, did you?"
    Did she honestly believe she could turn the tide on something like this? ...did it matter if she could convince //Jon// of that?
    "We're going to figure this out, Jon. We're going to find our way through - we're not as helpless in this world. You said that - right?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I already served them, Cael," Jon says, and there's a terrible hopelessness in his voice. "I... when I was helping Lydia putting together the circles to bind Michael, when he was in Chas, I suggested the dual circles. Lydia didn't even--it didn't make any /sense/ to her. But it did to me, and I couldn't explain /why/. Or why I insisted on binding him in two places at once. And I don't know how or why, but /something/ about doing that, it... it let these things in. And now they're targeting us."

    A pause. "They're targeting /you/. They'll come after you, too. Not even to get at me, just... just because they want you. Us. The Justice League Dark."

    They lean toward Cael. "I--that's why I--in the dream, I gouged out my eyes. That's how you escape the Watcher. The other Archivist, he--he was too much of a coward to do it alone, and Martin wouldn't do it with him, and then it was too late to escape. I thought it'd at least get me out of the dream. But it didn't help me escape the Mother. That was..." They turn their head toward Agnes.

    The girl looks up, blinking back her own tears. "Dad was screaming. Thrashing. I kept trying to wake him up, but he wouldn't, he /couldn't/. And then they... manifested this... bright green magic, and swiped at their eyes, and--" She stops, and swallows back bile, then seems to rush on past that part.

    "I... I could almost /see/ the web, and I grabbed his wrist and his shoulder and I just... thought about burning it. About how much I hated the spiders in that house. About freeing him."

    Jon nods. "And in the dream... fire burned the tapes away, and freed me. And then I woke up."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You didn't serve them knowingly. That's an important distinction - don't you think?" Cael asks - feeling her own heart pounding in her chest at the thought that these things would soon came after her, as well.
    "If they're coming after us... We find a way to counter them. We find their weaknesses. You already said-" A shiver runs over her. "Damaging your eyes. And... fire. The others must have weaknesses, too. How do we learn them? How many of these things //are// there?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Fifteen," Jon says, dully, tilting his head back to--not stare at the ceiling. But that's what he would be doing, if he could see. "I don't know the names they all have here. I don't--there are pieces I don't have. Obfuscated, I think, possibly on purpose. Something key to it all, that's been hidden, so I can't just stop them."

    They swallow. "I'm a liability, Cael. I'll do what they want. I always do, in the end. No matter how much I struggle, and fight, I always--always, /always/. It's just... who I am. Maybe not the Spider, but the Watcher? How can I stop being curious? Wanting to /know/ things? How can I--while still being /me/?"

    They sniffle again. "My eyes will grow back. She pointed that out. The Spider, I mean. And she was right. What do I do, remove them again? Over and over? I can't--how can I be Archivist? Serve Ma'at?"

    Agnes puts in, "Dad says he can't access /any/ of his magic. Even in the Astral, he wouldn't be able to make a portal, that's why someone else had to do it. He says he can't--can't feel the Archive. At all."

    Jon turns their head away from the both of them.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You've told us more than we knew before, Jon. We wouldn't have had //any// of this without you. Would we?" Cael asserts in a firm voice.
    "You are an //asset.// Do you hear me, Jonathan Sims?" She leans in to kiss him on the lips this time - firmly, and insistently, her fingers finding their hair to run through it reassuringly. "We're going to figure this out, and we're going to need //you// to have any chance to do this. We'll get through this together, just like we did before. We stopped Michael, didn't we?" she reminds them.
    "And we'll figure out this stuff with your magic, and the archive as well. Alright?" Her gaze goes to Agnes as she adds, "Agnes is with us. Aren't you? We're a family now, and if they come after any of us... they better be ready for all of us."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes reaches over to take Cael's other hand, and smiles. "Yeah. It's different here. We're /together/"

    "I can't cry," Jon whispers, but they lean their forehead in toward Cael's, returning the kiss. The fingers in their hair seem to help, too.

    "I have--thoughts. I do. The Watcher, it's /stupid/. It's, umm, something from the statement, it made me think..."

    They pull back a bit. When they speak, their voice has odd, resonant static. "'The Great Eye, the most unwise of all the fragments, forever seeking and consuming knowledge that it could not comprehend.'"

    He swallows, and then goes on in a normal voice, "Trying to understand fear, that's--that's my whole... thing, you know? Trying to understand fear, and its causes. Trying to understand... the world. Not just to /know/, but to... to /grok/, I guess? To understand completely. To /get/ things. So I wonder if..." He licks his lips.

    "You hate it when I--when I try to fight--from inside. When I accept an inevitability and try to work within that. And it... scares me, that maybe I'm thinking... that maybe this is just, I don't know, an excuse to give in to the temptation. But the Archivist of that world, he /did/ overpower the Watcher. He used it for his own ends, and if it hadn't been for the Spider, he would've starved it out. Maybe I can... deliberately sort of... maybe when my eyes regrow, I can take control of the thing, to a degree? Make it serve me, instead of me serving it?"

    Agnes frowns. "I don't... I don't know. That sounds... dangerous."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Grok? Cael frowns in puzzlement, but decides it's not important. She can ignore the one baffling word, as she holds Jon close to her.
    "You already know what I'm going to say. There's no world where I'm going to say I'm okay with- with a plan like that. I mean, undercover work is one thing, but- Jon, you can't lie." She lets out a frustrated sigh.
    "Look - we can talk about the plan with the others when we get a chance, but- I think Agnes and I are on the same page, here. ...and we don't want to lose you. We'll figure out a way to beat this shit. Alright?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm not talking about lying, Cael. I don't need to /lie/ to the thing. But I mean--Agnes is right. I can't feel the Archive. I can't do /any/ of my other magic. And I've been thinking..."

    Jon's brow furrows. "I think--I mean, balance, right? The Old Gods, they're... part of things, like it or not. I swore off using that energy while I was Gaea's Champion, but maybe I should at least..." He scoots around, to face Cael. "It's attached to me, Cael, like it or not. Not the Mother of Puppets, I don't think--I /think/ I can figure out a way to escape from her, although I don't have the first clue how. But the Ceaseless Watcher, that's--Cael, the Archivists used to be called Watchers. I don't know if I have a /choice/. And frankly? I don't really want to have the /others/ making a decision about--"

    They sigh. "Cael, this is about my /magic/. About Ma'at, and the Archive. About who and what I am, at my core. And what if part of that is that I'm attached to these things? That I always was? Would it be so bad, if I can use it for good ends?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael doesn't respond immediately - but her fingers, still twined with Jon's, give a little squeeze, and her thumb rubs gently at the back of their hand - a reminder that she's there, that she's with them, and they do have her full attention.
    She just needs to think.
    "I- love you, and that won't change. But it's like- everytime I turn around, there's something else. Some other influence that- is becoming part of you, maybe changing you, and I- of course it worries me. I don't like this, Jon. I don't. So- my instinct is to say no. To tell them to fuck off. To fight kicking and screaming - you //know// that. And your mind isn't exactly clear on all this right now - is it? Apparently it was clear enought last night that you..." she lifts their hands together to gently touch the bandage around their head, "did //this// to yourself. And now you're saying, 'well, maybe I //should// join them?"
    She sighs and shakes her head. "I think we should talk to the others, not because they should make your choices for you - but because we might need to hear some other perspectives, get other ideas - before we make any rash, and possibly irreversable decisions. I mean- you're reaction to, 'You'll serve us. You always serve us,' is- 'welp, I guess they're right.' I- Am I wrong?" she asks.
    She looks to the teen next, seeking her thoughts as she asks simply, "Agnes?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon shakes his head. "You're not--that's not--I am /tired/ of... of outsourcing my morals to every random person who bloody well happens to pass by! And yes, there's... influences, but... damn it, Cael, what else am I supposed to do? Gouge my eyes out every few weeks? Find a way to do it permanently? Never get the Archive back, never do magic again? Are we supposed to crowdsource that with the whole bloody Justice League Dark? Let's invite SHIELD by while we're at it, and the Titans, too. Everyone can have an opinion on how Jonathan Sims leads his damn life."

    Agnes is looking down at her hands again, frowning. She already gave her opinion, after all. It's dangerous. What else can she say?

Cael Becker has posed:
    Again, Cael is silent, leaning in so her forehead rests against Jon's head, her thumb rubbing against the top of their hand. Her breathing is just... slightly uneven. Just a touch shaky, as a few tears streak down her cheeks. What is she supposed to say.
    "I'm scared for you," she finally admits. "You know, no matter how I try, how hard these things are for me to really understand - so how am I supposed to help you find an alternative? Find a better path? Of course I don't want you to be blind. Of course I don't want you to have to- ...hurt yourself. Of course I want you to get your magic back, and the archive, but this scares me. I'm scared for you, what else am I supposed to say, Jon?"
    She takes a deep breath in, and it's quavers as she lets it out again. "It's your life. It's your choice, and I'm at your side no matter what - but I think you should talk this all out with someone you trust, who understands all this sorta stuff better than I do."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'm scared too, Cael. I..."

    They tilt their head back again. "There's a stain up on that ceiling tile," they say softly. "Fourth in from the east wall, fifth from the north. It's shaped kind of like an ice cream cone, and it's a dull reddish-brown. I think. I think? Yes."

    Agnes blinks at him. "How... you can /see/? With... with magic?"

    Jon shakes their head slightly. "No, not quite. I can't /see/ it, not like normal sight. I just... know it's there. So many people have lain here, or sat here, and looked at it, it's... made an impression on the room. I can still..." They pause. How can they explain? "Even without the Archive, I'm the Archivist. Even without eyes, I can /See/. I won't serve the Mother of Puppets--not ever. But the Watcher? I'm more powerful than the Watcher. At least--I think I am. I think I can--tame it. Use it. Give it what it wants, and use it to fight the others. Be an asset, and not a liability."

    Then he sighs. "But if you really insist, I'll try to find a time to talk to--someone. Chas, I guess? Although I imagine I know what he'll say." Another sigh.

    "...How was the full moon, anyway?" It's a clear subject change.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael turns her head, studying the tile with a faint frown, before looking back to Jon. Her hands stroke down their cheek as she tries to read their features - but it's harder to do, with that bandage where their eyes should be.
    "I'd feel better if you did," Cael confirms. "You don't have to listen to any of us - but maybe he'll have some insight that- I don't know, could help somehow. Maybe he'll have a different plan you didn't think of. It can't hurt, right?"
    She pulls them in fiercely, both arms wrapped around them as she finally lets out a full sob. "I'm with you no matter what. Okay? I'm with you."
    She holds them there for several long breaths, before she'll fall back against the pillows of Jon's bed, herself. "I expected it to be a nightmare. I was terrified I'd lose control again. That- someone to come to harm." She shakes her head before she admits, "It wasn't that bad. I mean it was- The memories a little strange. Almost like it's not mine? A little fuzzy, a little hard to recall - but it's there. And it was- ...nice. I guess."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon can't quite manage to wrap his arm around Cael, but he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. "That's--as long as--that's what worries me most," he murmurs. "That you'd leave."

    Then he just listens quietly, and chuckles. "I suppose Mercy knows what she's doing, hmm?" A sigh. "Magic isn't--it doesn't have to be /bad/, Cael. It's even possible this... whatever it is that's happening to you isn't supposed to work the way it has been. If we hadn't destroyed most of the pack, killed the Alpha, maybe they'd have, I don't know, come to you and helped you through the first full moon. I mean, we haven't been having reports of people /individually/ changing. It was all just the one pack."

    A pause. "Not that I would've thought you should join that pack, obviously. They were killing innocent people. But that's a choice they were making, I think. Or that the Alpha was making."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "No, I wouldn' have wanted to learn from them," she confirms without hesitation, before letting out a sigh, one arm still wrapped around Jon as if she intends to never let them go.
    "We- ummm. We ran. I was... I was on two legs at first, you know. Like you saw me before? She flushed out a rabbit for me, and I killed it. I- enjoyed it." She pauses for a moment before adding quietly, "Just like I enjoyed killing Elias. It was... remarkably similar." So - did that mean it was the beast, the animal, and not her at all?
    "We ran some more. She turned back into a human so we could talk some more. She doesn't trust the tattoo. She doesn't trust that I wear that necklace. She told me to try running on four legs and then- I don't know. Somehow I changed. I wasn't even aware of it happening, but I was- like a proper jackal. Like a dog. And- well. We ran, and played, and- honestly, it was fun."
    There's a brief pause before she adds, "I got to get someone to write her a check for the side of beef..."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I could--I mean, I still have a checkbook, for bills and things," Jon says. "I don't mind." He considers all of this. "I suppose not trusting the tattoo makes sense. It's not magic she recognizes, and I put silver in it, so it wouldn't just heal over. I could explain it to her, if you like."

    A pause. Then, "I'm glad you had fun. I really am. Whether or not we can fix this thing--you shouldn't hate it while it's happening. You'll just be miserable. And maybe if you can understand it better, you'll figure out what to do about it."

    Agnes giggles. "Liking running sounds like you, Cael. Fast as you can, right?"

    Jon chuckles again. "I almost envy you," he admits. "When I fly, it's--I'm still a human. Not a proper bird. It might be nice, for flight to just be... instinctive. And I miss it. I really, really do."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I have a checkbook too - back home," Cael replies wryly. "I'll just- I'll call someone and have them write the check. No need to go mailing things internationally, and pay for that - or make her wait."
    She rests her head against Jon, but she's looking at Agnes as she nods in response to the girl's comments. "Yeah. That's prety much it, alright - and was fun. No real thought, or worries just- ...running. Smelling. I mean, it surprised the hell outta me at first."
    She's silent for a moment before she adds softly, "And I felt a little less like a monster."
    She gives Jon a squeeze as she adds, "You'll get your wings back. You'll always catch me if I fall, I know you will."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You're not a monster, Cael," Jon murmurs. "Just--just remember that. Always remember that. You're a good person."

    Before any of them can say much more, the door opens and then the curtain and the doctor comes back in, along with a couple of nurses. "So how are you feeling, Dr. Sims?"

    Jon sighs. "Same as I was before. Tired. Hurting. I'd very much like to leave, if you don't mind."

    The doctor exchanges a glance with one of the nurses. "I'm afraid there's an--issue that we need to clear up."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael nods her head in response, giving Jon a little squeeze before she remarks quietly, "Maybe it won't be completely horrible if we never-" She cuts herself off as the door opens, and she turns her attention towards the doctor, unabashedly staying exactly where she is.
    "The nurse or whatever - said something about Jon's blood sample?" she asks bluntly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Yes," the doctor says. "If you could move, please, Ms. Becker, so the nurses can get another sample?"

    Jon sits up a bit, brows furrowing like he's trying to narrow eyes he doesn't have. "What happened?"

    "It's--well, it's probably nothing, just a lab error--"

    "What. Happened?" Jon's voice is firm, right on the edge of compulsion.

    The doctor sighs. "The sample... disappeared, according to the tech. Didn't even leave anything dried up in the vials. So if we could just--"

    "And the MRI you tried to give me earlier," Jon cuts in, "the machine was malfunctioning, right? I overheard the nurse saying it looked like I didn't have a brain."

    The doctor chuckles. "Yes, well, that's /obviously/ not the case, Dr. Sims, as you are awake and speaking to us. I really am sorry for all of these malfunctions."

    "Yes," Jon says slowly. "Malfunctions. Quite." A pause. "Cael, love, can you get up? I think we'll be leaving now."

    Agnes' eyes have widened, and she's looking between Dr. Elwes and Jon in something like alarm.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael does not move at the doctor's request - she continues to keep her arm wrapped around Jon, her head resting against them as she listens, and considers what's being said.
    "I imagine the MRI has since been functioning perfectly normally?" she remarks in a dry tone, before turning her attention back towards Jon. She watches them for a moment, then gives them a brief kiss. "I'll get you your things," she promises Jon. After a squeeze with her arm, she gently frees herself, and slides off the bed.
    "Honestly, there's no offense meant. I think it's just- This whole situation is an unusual case. Where are their things at?" she asks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Dr. Elwes looks between Jon and Cael with a frown. "I assure you, this hospital does not normally have this many problems."

    Jon shakes his head. "I don't blame you, and I feel I've received excellent care. But I don't really think you can help me. So. I'll be leaving. If I have to be discharged against medical advice, I'm willing to accept that." He glances up at one of the nurses, with that odd sense he's looking /right/ at her. "If you wouldn't mind helping with the IV?" he asks, politely.

    Dr. Elwes draws himself up. "Now see here, I'm still not convinced that this isn't self-inflicted, and I've called psychiatry--"

    Jon's head snaps back around, and when he speaks it's laden with static. "I am leaving. Now. You will discharge me, and you will put this down in the records as an accident that needs no further investigation."

    The doctor blinks and reels back a bit, shaking his head. "I--yes, of course. Go ahead and take out his IV," he says to the nurse, sounding dazed.

    Agnes has stood, and starts helping Cael gather Jon's things. She whispers, "Do you have any idea what's going on with Dad?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "We'll happily sign the AMA order," Cael adds for the doctor, as she and Agnes set Jon's things on the edge of the bed. "And I'll make sure he has a video call with his therapist, alright?" Her gaze goes to Jon with a 'and don't you fucking think about arguing with me' look - though she's a little unsure if the look accomplishes anything at all.
    "When do I ever understand magic bullshit?" Cael answers Agnes quietly. Jon's blood is disappearing. He can't be read on an MRI. He- ... can't be treated by doctors anymore? At all? He feels warm. When she rests her head on his chest, she hears his heart beat. Hears him breathing. Hears his voice rumbling in his chest. The pulseox works, and the heart monitor - so what does it all mean?
    "They can't help with this, though. We're on our own - but we'll figure it out. We're together - right?"
    There's a slight pause before she adds, "Besides, how long has Bear been locked up in the hotel?" She waits for the nurse to remove the IV, then she pulls the curtain closed around the bed to give Jon some privacy. "You got everything, right Jon?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I left him food and water," Agnes murmurs. "I figure if he can't help making a mess I--I know how to clean things with magic now. I'll just... clean it. So the staff doesn't have to. It's not his fault. But he must be worried sick by now."

    Jon just smirks at Cael--even if he can't see the look he can /sense/ the emotion--and, with the IV out, gets up to start getting changed.

    "No, no, I'll--it was an accident. You'll recover at home. It'll be fine. Yes. I'll just go... fill out the paperwork." Dr. Elwes turns and leaves, leaving the nurses blinking at each other. Surely there'll be some gossip about this at the nurse's station later. But with Jon's IV out and the monitors unhooked, they leave to let him get dressed.

    Once they're gone, Jon says, "Sorry. I just--I don't think--I need someone to look at me, to be sure, but I've been thinking for a while that I might not be--" A sigh. "I think my body is made of the stuff of the Astral Plane, formed by my will, combined with Ma'at's. Not that I'm /dead/. I'm just. Not... human anymore. I--I'm sorry." He goes about trying to tug on his pants with just the one arm.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "No more doctor's then," Cael says quietly, her gaze going first to the curtain, and then to Agnes, her expression a little sad, and worried. How was she supposed to respond to this? How could she possibly respond to any of this?
    "...you're okay?" she asks - meaning the question for Jon, her tone gentle. She includes Agnes next with a nod, and an, "And you?"
    She wasn't sure //she// was okay - but she'd fake it until she was.
    "I'll call us an uber back to the hotel. We'll stop somewhere for some take out... And- and we'll figure everything out. Today's probably shot. We'll, uhh... just have a night in? Maybe a stroll together? Figure out- what tomorrow looks like."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Once he's got his pants on, Jon turns to Cael and wraps his arm around her, pulling her in close, despite not having yet changed out of the thin hospital gown. "I'm still me," he says. "Okay? Whatever my body is now, it happened months ago, and we've been fine. I'm not going anywhere. In fact, this--this probably means I /can't/ go anywhere. Okay?"

    He sighs, and nods. "Let's--let's get takeout, and, umm... you're sure you don't want to--go home?" There's a worried tone in his voice. "I--I figured... well, /you/ can still see things. I remember--everything."

    "I want to stay," Agnes murmurs. "If we can. I say we order a bunch of crazy stuff off the hotel room service menu and play video games, and Dad can listen."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You're here," Cael agrees quietly, leaning into the hug. "//We're// here. We're together. We're a family - and nothing is changing. //Nothing.//" She takes a deep breath in, and lets it out slowly. "It's still your voice. Your warmth. Your smell. Your //words.//" It's still Jon.
    After another breath, she nudges them gently in the ribs and adds, "Finish getting dressed. No one wants to wear a hospital gown home. And- yeah, I think we should stay. We'll still have a good time - we'll figure it out. We'll, uhh- ride a tandem bike. That's still a thing, right? And Agnes can sing 'a bicycle made for two' at us. And I'll regret not having anything to throw at her for it."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I'll sing--what?" Agnes frowns. "I don't know that song."

    Jon shakes his head. "Of course you somehow even missed /Daisy Bell/." He snorts, and then starts singing, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do--" He's grinning at Cael the whole time, even as he pulls off the gown and grabs his t-shirt.

    Yep. Still Jon.