9462/Lightening the Heart

Lightening the Heart
Date of Scene:	01 January 2022
Location:	Driving in a car through NYC
Synopsis:	Martin picks up Jon after he gets kidnapped by vampires, and some long-withheld truths finally come to light
Cast of Characters:	Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims

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Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin didn't expect the phone call. He is asleep when he gets it and bolts out of bed at Jon's voice. His husband sounds terrible. Rushing to get down to Queens forces Martin to forget a few things. Which requires quick return to the residence to get a few items: Coat. Sidearm. Carkeys. Finally after three return trips he manages to get down the the Midnight Mission.

    Upon seeing Jon he realized the severity in the man's voice. He looks rather terrible. His clothes are stained with blood and upon getting information from one of the allies of the mission he helps load Jon into the car and starts home.

    He's quiet for a few minutes and then says, "I... I'm sorry..." It's a lame opening line and he knows it. But what else can you say to a person who looks like he's been an extra in slasher film. "I... I shouldn't have forced you out of the house...."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Bloody hell, Martin," Jon grumbles. "You did no such thing." He's carrying an entire liter of orange juice and a box of crackers in his lap, both taken from the Midnight Mission's ready room fridge. He has the back of his head against the headrest, eyes half-lidded, but he takes a moment to twist open the orange juice bottle and take a swig before he keeps talking.

    "/I/ chose to leave the Trisk, and /I/ chose to stay out in Queens over New Year's. And /I/ chose to tell people to leave me be, so that none of you were looking for me right away. I could have just taken a walk, had a cigarette, come back in. I chose not to."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    "But... but..." Martin searches for a way to take some of the blame from Jon in this, but his husband has a point. He sighs. "Yes. I guess you did, didn't you?" He looks at him. "Are you... are you going to be okay?" By his tone he doesn't mean about the physical side of the wounds. He knows Jon can heal from a number of things in time that--while not mutant level--is astonishing.

    "And do you need anything before we go home? We cna hit a drive through if you want food that is more than just crackers." He frowns. The orange juice was good. But crackers didn't have much substance to add to replenishing a person's system after massive blood loss. Cookies would be better, but Jon probably grabbed what he thought he could handle in the immediate.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Might be an idea," Jon murmurs. "Tara sped up my healing by quite a bit, so I'm past the initial worry about shock or needing transfusion. Now it's more like... some idiot let me donate blood one too many times." He sighs, takes another swig from the orange juice, and then lets his head slump against the headrest again, eyes closing.

    "I had a vision," he says, voice a little distant. "Maybe I nearly died? Mmm. Hard to say. But I saw Anubis and Ma'at. She weighed my heart." He presses a hand to the center of his chest, frowning. "I was found... wanting. Heart's heavier than a feather. I need to fix that."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin blusters at that. "But... found wanting? That's... how? You serve them as Archivist don't you?" he asks. His tone finds the whole thought outrageous. "You do your position admirably given all the training you received for it. And they have the audacity to say you're not good enough?" He shakes his head.

    "If I could I'd tell them to piss off and find someone else if they think you're not doing a good enough job... good luck with that..." He's rambling and ignoring the fact that Jon was so close to death he went through a ritual that only the dead go through. A coping mechanism.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Martin..." Jon's voice is surprisingly soft. He reaches over and places a hand on the other man's shoulder, gently. Squeezes lightly. "It was a /warning/, love. 'Shape up your act and live right.' They're not unhappy with my performance as Archivist--they actually seem to think I'm doing better than Gran was." He snorts at that, then sighs.

    "No... it's... look, Martin, you don't remember Agnes existed because I asked Annabelle to be sure you wouldn't remember dying. And I... I've been lying to you, and other people, about... a lot of things." He turns his head and opens his eyes, peering at Martin with surprising directness given the distant, half-dreamy quality of his tone and the slowness of his movements. "Lies weigh heavy on the heart. They keep us from being who we truly are, and that makes us a block in the river instead of part of its flow. I've done wrong by you, and I'm doing wrong by others, and I need to fix that."

    A beat. "I could really go for a bacon cheeseburger right now. Is that terrible?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin peers at Jon for a moment at a stop light. "What have you been lying about besides the Agnes thing?" he asks. "I mean, sure that's rather big. But... one lie doesn't seem like it should damn you forever by Egyptian standards. I mean,.." He didn't want to get into a historical debate with Jon over ancient Egyptian customs right now. It wasn't the time or the occasion. But the last thing Jon said hits on him.

    He chuckles and meets his husband's gaze. "Seems appropriate given the circumstances... doesn't it?" he says and shakes his head. "It's alright, love. I'll have one with you." He hasn't had one in a very long time.

    Martin doesn't keep kosher. Not anymore. He hasn't since Lyra died. The first thing he had done after the dust had cleared and she was dead was go have a bacon cheeseburger. It was an act of defiance against God. An act that was as much a slap in the face for taking something so precious from him in his time of need. He didn't eat them often, but if Jon had almost died... now was another time to have one. He turns and starts for a 24 hour burger place he knew was nearby.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Well, some of it's just... you know as well as I that I'm not half so sane and collected as I put forth." Jon smirks. "And... that's a lot of it. Holding in my pain and fear, not dealing with it when I know I should. I'm trying... I am. But there are things happening that... that I'm not telling people. Because I don't know how you'll react. Not just you; everyone."

    The smirk fades, as Jon regards Martin quietly. "I'm meant to die in this business, Martin," he says softly. "I was worried, tonight, that somehow... I don't know, that maybe I was supposed to become a bloody vampire." He snorts. "Foolish notion." The vague amuements doesn't last. "I don't meant to let it stick, if I can't avoid it entirely. But... that's what I'm facing, supposedly. Dead by summer."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
Jon's confession about his own death brings Martin up short at another intersection. "I..." he frowns, tears standing in his eyes. "How am I supposed to react to that?" he finally says softly. "I mean, what if you can't not let it stick. What if it does? What then?" He looks to Jon and the tears start to fall.

    "I nearly lose you tonight, and now you're telling me by summer I *am* going to lose you?" he asks. "What... what do you expect me to do with that knowledge, Jon?" He's angry, that much is certain but it's an anger born out of terror. More terror than Jon's ever felt from the man.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon just kind of... stares at Martin for a long moment. Then he lets out a sigh and looks forward.

    "See?" he says, and not to Martin, really. "This is why I don't /tell/ people. It never goes well." He shakes his head and uncaps the bottle again, takes another long swig of orange juice.

    "I don't know what you should do with it," he says after a moment. His tone is bitter, resentful. "What the bloody hell do you think /I'm/ supposed to do with it? 'Hey, you've been chosen as Gaea's Champion, and /guess what/, that means you're supposed to die to save the universe!' Piss off, I'd like to say, but that doesn't really help."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin shakes his head, "No. It's... it's good that you told me. I just... I have to get through it.. please" He takes a shuddering breath. "Can't turn away from destiny..." he says solemnly as he continues to drive. His tears aren't affecting his vision too much just now.

    "Alright. How do you plan to keep it from sticking? Are their options...?" he asks. He knows he's stalling, before letting Jon go to whatever -other- reveals the man may have. If his death is the tip of the iceburg, what other bombshells does he have in store?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Dunno really," Jon says, peering at the road ahead of them. "Gaea said something about scales. I'm planning to talk to a few people who might have ideas. If nothing else, maybe I just flip Anubis the bird, give them all the slip, and run off to catch a ride on Ra's barge back up out of the underworld."

    He shrugs, and then smiles suddenly. "Channel a bit of the old Jonny, hmm? Back before Elias went and mucked everything up, got me convinced I've got to be boring and stuffy to be taken seriously. What would a space pirate do, when faced with all of this?"

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin has to stiffle the laugh that threatens to bubble out of him. He hasn't heard those sorts of comments from Jon in a very long time. "As far as ideas go, it's not terrible" he says with a small grin. He swallows it down. "If you need help well. I'm... you know..."

    He takes a breath and looks over at Jon. "What else? There has to be more, there always is. What other things have you been keeping? We might as well get them all out, right?" he asks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "You're /Jewish/, Martin. You don't know... well, you know the first thing about the Egyptian afterlife. But not the second or third. It's fine." Jon turns to smile at him. "I'll figure this out. I have to. I can't let them just... use me up like this."

    He keeps looking at Martin for a long moment. Swallows. And then, in a /very/ soft voice, "I... I've been... I'm..." And then, all in a rush, "I'm non-binary. I mean. Gender. I'm not... a man. Not entirely. Not a woman either. And... and if that means you wouldn't... I... I'd understand, I know you're gay..."

    He's shaking so hard he has to clutch at the orange juice bottle, but stares at Martin, eyes wide and terrified.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin blinks at Jon. He wills himself not to laugh, clearly Jon thought this was bigger than his pre-ordained death. He would give it the same gravitas that his husband--was that the right word, no it wasn't--that his *spouse* wanted it to have.

    "Jon... I love you. Man. Woman. Neither. Both. I love *you*" he replies calmly. "If that means that I'm... bi... then" he shrugs, "I guess I'm bi. It's not a deal breaker. I've sort of known that -something- was different about your gender. I've seen your suit. I'm not an Egyptologist but I know that parts of your suit are more priestess than pharoh garb and you've always been a bit less... I don't know masculine than most."

    He shrugs. "I just figured you would come out with it when you were ready. I wasn't going to push. And now you have... so..." he smiles, "thank you. For being honest with me and with yourself."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon gapes at Martin. "Wh-that's /it/?! You... /knew/?! You... you just... /knew/?!"

    He pulls a cracker out of the package and throws it at Martin. This is neither mature nor a good idea while someone else is driving, but such is his mental state just now.

    "You bloody... do you know how long I've been... /nine years/, Martin! Nine /years/ I've known about this, and I've been fretting and worrying and... and... and you /knew/?! The whole bloody time?!" He sounds... injured, almost.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin is really managing his emotions rather well, even if the tenuousness of it can be felt in their connection. "I wouldn't say I -knew-" he says in reply letting the cracker bounce off his shoulder. "I... suspected. There's a difference."

    "Jon... it's your identity. Far be it for me to presume or question that. You are who you are and if that take time to figure out and come to grips with and put forth... then so be it." He shakes his head, dark curls shaking with the motion. "I said I wasn't going to push. I meant that. It was for you to say, not me to assume." He looks at Jon at another light. "I'm happy that you're finally ready to be open about it. At least, with me."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns at him, and then sighs. "I told Lydia first," he admits. "I was up on the Asteroid, and it... they have a /lovely/ view of the Earth, you know? I could see Egypt. And I just... I don't know, it just came out." He makes a kind of opening motion with his fingers. "She's a lovely person, Lydia. You really ought to meet her."

    He relaxes back into his seat. There's been a knot in his chest for so, so long, and the slow unraveling of it when he came out to Lydia seems to loosen even more, with Martin's acceptance. "I'm scared all the time," he admits, staring out the windshield. "Have been ever since... I was eight." Martin knows what that means, to be sure. The strange children's book he found that a bully took. The giant spider that pulled the bully into some alternate dimension. "Everything before that's fuzzy, unclear... normal. Everything since is tinged with terror. It's the first clear memory I have--the terror, the guilt. It could have been me that got pulled into some... spider-book. It /should/ have been me. I still have nightmares that the thing is going to come for me, take me away." He shakes his head. "When you live like that, think like that... it colors /everything/. Every interaction, every thought."

    A pause. He blinks slowly. "You know," he says, "I really ought to tell my therapist that I /probably/ have complex PTSD. Didn't even occur to me before now. Pretty bloody obvious, I'd think."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin is hesitant on the concept of meeting the vampiress. Controlled or not, the entire ordeal is rather terrifying to him. "I'll... think on it" he says. "It's not that she's a mutant... it's... the other thing. I'm sure I'll come around, just... give me time."

    At the suggestion of Jon he nods. "Not a bad idea" he says as he turns onto the street, past the snow the double golden arches appear lit despite the conditions and the time. "You're getting a therapist who understands the... wider nature of our world, right?" He means one who is in the know about metahumans and the supernatural nature of their jobs.

    "I mean... I don't want to see you committed because you talk about an evil magic book is all I'm saying." He pulls into the line for the drivethru. "Is there... is there anything else?" Some trepidations comes into his words at the mention.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Of course I am, Martin. SHIELD therapist, suggested by Wilson. He knows the sort of things we're dealing with." Jon smiles. Then, after a pause, "There's nothing else, love. Not... not for you. That was all, really. Just... the dying, and the gender identity."

    A pause. "Of course, I really /am/ an immortal demonic space pirate, but..." He grins. Now he's just teasing.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin doesn't miss a beat, the link between him telling him the joke in the words. "Of course you are love... part of why I fell for you" he says with a grin as they move in the line.

    "Just remember, while your out there... even if I'm not at your side. I'm still with you. One hundred percent." He reaches over and takes Jon's hand in his own giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance.