Difference between revisions of "9515/Path of Glory: The Duties of Command"

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{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2022/01/07
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|Date of Scene=2022/01/06
 
|Location=Grand Central Station, NYC
 
|Location=Grand Central Station, NYC
 
|Synopsis=Cael tracks down Jon - and forces him out of his self-imposed isolation, as the pair offers each other support for their differing trials.
 
|Synopsis=Cael tracks down Jon - and forces him out of his self-imposed isolation, as the pair offers each other support for their differing trials.

Revision as of 07:58, 21 January 2022

Path of Glory: The Duties of Command
Date of Scene: 06 January 2022
Location: Grand Central Station, NYC
Synopsis: Cael tracks down Jon - and forces him out of his self-imposed isolation, as the pair offers each other support for their differing trials.
Cast of Characters: Jonathan Sims, Cael Becker




Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon has grabbed a small room on the top floor of Grand Central, one of the old ticket offices, to make his phone calls. It's high enough up to get reception, and it's out of the way of the buzz of people moving around, preparing defenses, healing the wounded, bringing in civilians who couldn't or didn't evacuate in time. There's a desk and a chair, and he's been going through the list of the civilian dead for... hours. He ate, took statements off the bodies, came in here. Martin brought more food and he grabbed bites in between phone calls.

    Now he's on call #16, and his food's grown cold and sits abandoned next to him. He sighs as he ends the call, and reaches up to rub at his eyes. He's all out of tears, at this point. It's hard, but... there's still twenty names on the list.

Cael Becker has posed:
    It took a while for anyone to successfully direct Cael to Jon's location - and that's a problem in and of itself. People need their 'general' - especially after a defeat like this, and Jon self-isolating... well, she's not happy about it. She raps on the door and then, without waiting for response, pulls it open to let herself in, sitting on the edge of the desk as she studies Jon's weary looking features. Her own expression is calm and almost neutral - with just hints of concern drawing her brows together - but she covers for that by grabbing a cold fry from his plate of food and eating it without so much as a by-your-leave.
    "What're you up to, Jon?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon silently slides the paper over. Thirty-six names, sixteen of them crossed out.

    "Making phone calls," he says quietly. He looks terribly, terribly tired. His cheeks are tear-streaked, his hair mussed from where he's run his hands through it over and over.

    "What've you been doing?" He glances over and up at Cael, and musters up a smile. "I know you said you were going to get some food, and yet here you are stealing my chips."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Food always tastes better when it's stolen," Cael remarks. "...of course, it also tastes better when it's warm. We could probably get someone to bring you a fresh plate," she points out, as she picks up the list and looks it over.
    "Grim work," she murmurs in a quiet voice. "Important work, too, but..." She folds the list before handing it back to him. "Planning on finishing the whole list?" she asks.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "They need to be told," Jon replies with a shrug. "They... /deserve/ to be told. Their loved ones died trying to save the universe; even if they only thought they were protecting New York... don't they deserve that closure? That honor?"

    He pulls the plate back over and adds, "I'm not going to waste the bloody food. It's not the first plate of cold chips I've eaten in my life and I doubt it'll be the last."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You're right," Cael agrees. "They do."
    She takes another of Jon's chips, nibbling at it idly, and allowing a moment of silence. "But does //this// work..." she jabs her finger at the list, "prevent others from dying the next time we face the angels? Does it increase our chance of winning, and preserving our reality? Is this the work you need to be doing... //today//?" she asks him simply, meeting his gaze directly, while still wearing the calm, relaxed expression on her features.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "When else does it get done, Cael?" Jon frowns at her. "Should I just collect them all up and wait until we're done? Send a form letter? 'Your child "blank" was yet another casualty in the war to preserve reality. I'm the only one who's /fated/ to die, but since "blank" had the courage to stand up and fight against the jackass who's decided we all need to be re-set, and I didn't make a good enough plan to keep them alive, they're dead. So sorry. Respectfully yours, Jonathan Sims, Gaea's Great Bloody Champion.'"

    His brow furrows even deeper and he looks away. "Sorry," he mumbles. "That's... that's not fair. This isn't your fault."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "None of this is fair, Jon," Cael answers seriously, meeting his gaze without flinching. "But if you go through this entire list, and don't have time to prepare... the next list is just as long - or longer. And then you go through that entire list, and-" She shrugs helplessly. She doesn't need to go on - Jon's a smart guy. He gets it. "These families all deserve to be told, personally, what happened to their loved one. These families deserve to know of their bravery, and courage. But your job is to keep as many people as possible alive - while ensuring that we win. We need a plan, Jon - and the people fighting this battle need to see the people leading them out there... amongst them, not locked up in some room, with a plate of cold french fries, going through a list of the fallen."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns at the list. "My job is this, Cael." He taps the list. "I deal with the dead. Or with their souls, at least. The rest of it, keeping people alive, leading people? That wasn't meant for me. Or not just me. I'm just the bloody idiot who happened to step up."

    He swallows, still staring at the paper. "/Do/ they need me out there? Really?" He says it very, very quietly. "I keep /claiming/ I'm in charge but... am I? Half the time I feel like nobody's bloody listening, and then when people do... it's just to the worst ideas. To SHIELD I'm a /recruit/, and to the rest..." He shrugs. Frowns more deeply.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "You can't have it both ways, Jon," Cael says dryly. "Standing at the head of our forces, leading them against Michael - parlaying with him, tapped by Gaea and Ma'at," fuck, is she really saying that shit with a straight face, "and you're not sure if you're in charge or not?" Her expression changes to a stern frown. "Are you standing up to this or not?" she asks bluntly.
    Then she abruptly relents with a sigh. "Hell, Jon, I'd love for you to be able to run from this but - can you? Would you? If you're going to do this, you need to do it right - and that means, yes, you need to be //seen// to be leading to be respected, to make sure everyone follows orders, that these lists stay small, and that we win."
    She lets out a thoughtful sound before adding, "You know who you should talk to, actually? ...Cap. He has experience with command. You need some sort of mentor and... well. Who better?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon hunches his shoulders at the rebuke, keeps staring down at the desk. "I know I can't have it both ways," he says. "That's why I came in here, to... to cry, and mourn, where nobody can see me doing it. So then I can go back out there and... lead. I just..."

    He runs a hand through his hair. "People /died/, Cael. People died. People I led. Even if I'd done everything right, people would have died. And I... I don't know how to... I mean, I've lost patients before, but not /48/ at once, it's just..." He shuts his eyes for a moment. No tears come. He really is all cried out.

    He takes in a slow breath, lets it out. He keeps doing that, partly to remind himself that he /can/. Opens his eyes, and looks at Cael. "You're right," he says finally. "I should... I've done more than a third of this. I can do some more tomorrow. Just... set aside a block of time for it, daily, instead of trying to do it all at once."

    He frowns. "Do you really think Captain Rogers would... do that? I mean..." He touches a pouch on the tactical vest he's still wearing, absently; did he put Cap's signature in the pouch? What a nerd. "He /did/ say he was pulling for us."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I know," Cael says quietly - with sympathy now. "I'm sorry you're going through this, Jon. I'm sorry for the whole fucking lot of us. I wish- well. It doesn't matter. I'm sure we wish the same thing, anyways." There's a moment of hesitation before she gets off the edge of the desk and goes to Jon, giving him a hug.
    "And yes. Cap will - in fact, I'll text him right now," she adds, pulling out her phone and starting to type.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon returns the hug, closing his eyes for a moment--then blinks, startled, when Cael declares she's texting Cap. /Right now/. "Oh, lord, Cael, that's... I mean, you shouldn't... he's not... he's probably..." What, busy? With something more important than the /potential end of the universe/?

    He sets his elbows on the desk and puts his head in his hands. "I keep asking 'why me' and I think I've figured it out--all those powerful muckity-mucks wanted a good chuckle. Whoever it was, it would've been someone who'd flounder about, just so they could point and laugh."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Bullshit, Jon," Cael answers in a dry voice, perching herself on the edge of the table once more. "I would suppose it's because of your... position? Job? In addition to your character, and determination. Plus, you're not an idiot, even if you act like one on occassion, and you have magic. Which - obviously, is more than I can claim." She gives the man an encouraging smile. "We've got this, right? You just need to stay focused, and you need your friends to help you stay focused. And sane. Yeah?" She pockets her phone again without waiting for a response as she adds, "I gave him your number."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I hate you," Jon mutters. "I hate you forever, go away and never return. How /dare/ you give /Captain Rogers/ my number. Rude. Unconscionable. You are the /worst/, Cael. The /literal worst/."

    A smile hovers around his lips, though he tries to hide it. He looks up, finally, and grins. "Yeah, okay. I /suppose/ maybe it's /some/ of those things. And I /suppose/ I can pick up if Cap calls. If you insist."

    The grin fades into something softer. "While you're here... I've been meaning to ask... are you going to want some... space, tomorrow? Or... should I come by and check on you?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "The absolute, literal worst, I know," Cael agrees - grinning at Jon. Well, until his question makes her expression sober, and that anxiety she's been fighting off leaks into her eyes.
    "I really don't know how I'm going to be tomorrow, Jon," she answers quietly. "What I don't want is for you to waste too much time on me," she says seriously. "A, uh... a visit might me nice. I mean, just to check in. If you've got the time, if you wanted to."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon frowns at her. "Cael Becker," he says in slow, even tones, "you are /never/ a waste of my time." He reaches up, almost absently, to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and then freezes halfway through the motion.

    He pulls his hand down, looks away, clearing his throat. "Ahh... sorry. That... I... sorry." His cheeks have darkened. A lot. "I just mean... I know you, ahh... well. I have things to do, i know, but... you... matter. So, if you don't mind... I'll check in on you."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael freezes at the gesture from Jon, but doesn't pull away - her own cheeks darkening in response. As he pulls away, her hand reaches out to take his, giving it a squeeze before releasing it again. "I know that- I mean, you wouldn't ever think of me that way. I more meant - you can't afford to spend the whole day with me. I've got Bear, and Alis - they'll get me back on my feet. And... I'm going to- I'm really going to try. I appreciate you wanting to be there for me. Genuinely."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "I understand that," Jon says softly. "I can't spend all day with you any more than I can spend all day in here. But... I'm going to at least check in."

    He stares at her for a moment longer, then clears his throat and turns away, busying himself with picking up the plate of food and the list of names. "Anyway. Ahh. Yes. I should... go out and start working on plans. Find people to send out to scout. Things... like that."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Yes. You should," Cael agrees. She's silent for a moment, watching Jon as he prepares to leave. "You've got this, Jon. I know you do," she breathes quietly, taking in a deep breath in - and letting out slowly.
    "Since I'm probably taking a day off tomorrow... Is there anything you need me to do //today//? I'm yours to command."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    For one wild moment Jon actually considers saying 'kiss me again,' and tamps that /right/ down. They need to /talk/ first. And anyway, you don't /order/ people to kiss you, that's /weird/.

    Still, it /would/ be nice.

    He glowers at the desk for a moment and then shakes himself. "If you can check in on the civilians? Find out who's here for refuge, who might be able to help... who might want to fight. I'm thinking perhaps we organize a bit of a militia rather than just letting it go hodgepodge." He smiles. "You're a mortal, and an authority figure, but you know how to deal with... people who don't like authority figures. Seems like something you should be good at."

Cael Becker has posed:
    "That's in my wheel house, yeah," Cael confirms with an amused smile before climbing to her feet, and sketching an elaborate bow, splaying one hand out to the side, and putting her right foot at tip-toe behind her. "Your wish is my command."
    She straightens again with a teasing sparkle in her eyes, that slowly fades to a more uncertain expression. "Mind if I give you a hug?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon snorts at the bow, then frowns at the uncertain expression. The request, however, gets a smile. "Of course not," he replies. He gets up from the chair and opens his arms, to let her go ahead and hug him--but letting her initiate this time.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael slips into his arms wordlessly, tucking herself in against the taller man's chest, as she wraps her arms around him gently. She lingers there for several long breaths, her eyes closed, before she'll pull away. "You've absolutely got this, Jon. I believe in you, and I'm not the only one. Alright?"

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon responds by wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes, soaking up the feeling of support and comfort. He opens them when she pulls away, and smiles.

    "Thought that was my line," he murmurs, eyes sparkling. "Thank you, though. It means a lot."

    He glances to the door. "Well. I suppose they're waiting. Shall we?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    Bullshit. Cael  doesn't say it - but the doubt was reflected in her eyes. Still - she repeats the words, and tries her best to believe it. "I've got this."
    With a nod, she makes her way back out of the room and down the stairs - ready to talk to and start organizing the civilians. That would be the //easy// part for her.
    Tomorrow was another matter, though.