Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	Things were alright when Cael left. Jon had been in a good mood, having gone out and come back on his own twice now. Navigating the Hyperloop alone is hard enough for him, let alone with his missing arm, so the fact that he's been able to both meet Phoebe for coffee and visit Donna Troy at the Themiscyran Art Center were reasons to celebrate.     When Cael returns, there's a heavy tension in the air. Agnes is nowhere to be seen, probably holed up in her room. Martin's in the kitchen finishing clean-up of some sort; all he'll say is that there was a 'mishap' and Jon's 'hiding.' And that now that Cael's back, he'll go out to pick up dinner. It's likely he would've taken the walk long before, if Jon didn't need someone around to help and Agnes wasn't... sulking? Hiding herself? Secretly planning to burn down the Triskelion?     At any rate, Jon and Agnes are both in their rooms and Martin takes off to go pick up dinner, leaving poor Cael holding the metaphorical bag.
Cael Becker	"Rrrrriiiight," Cael says, pulling off a pair of gloves and shoving them into the pockets of her jacket. She stares at Jon's door for a moment, before looking back towards Martin again. "I'll have the noodles," she says simply, letting an amused grin cross her features. Yup - it was a completely superfluouos thing for her to say - Martin was well aware of her dietary proclivities by now.     Once Martin's gone, she starts towards his and Jon's door, pausing just outside it with her hand on the door. Did he know she was there? She wasn't sure how his empathy worked. "Do you want me to come in?" she asks - barely loud enough to be heard through the door.
Jonathan Sims	"If you like." Jon's tone is dull, empty--he's been having mood swings, and it's mostly gone between this kind of hollow emptiness and his more normal 'upbeat' mood. Very little anger, at least that Cael's seen, mostly expressed in momentary frustration.     When she pushes inside, the room is dark, save for the light of the 'moon' coming through the artificial window. Jon's lying on his side on the bed, back to the door, staring at the far wall, curled up beneath the blanket. This he hasn't done in a week, not since he started actually leaving the apartment. He had several moments, in those first few days, of staring blankly at nothing, but he blamed it on hunger and dehydration. Of course, it's entirely likely that it was more than that, but Jon never does want to blame his bad moods on anything that doesn't have a concrete fix. The way Martin fusses over him, it's no wonder; blaming the bad mood on something that can be fixed by food and tea keeps the peace better than just admitting he's angry or depressed.
Cael Becker	Cael takes a moment to loosen the laces off her boots so she can pull them off - pressing the toes of one foot to the heel of the other to remove them. Once this is done, she climbs onto the bed at Jon's back, draping one arm around him, and pressing her head gentlly to the back of his neck. "I'm here," she says simply, breathing deeply and evenly, while listening to his own breathing.     She ached to see him like this - but she knows she had days like this and far worse after what was done to her - despite Sara's efforts to get her out and active immediately after what had happened.
Jonathan Sims	Jon shudders for a moment at Cael's touch, and sobs, and then stills. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, then reflexively curls up further, until he's as small as he can manage to be, in the bed.     "You shouldn't be," he says, tone heavy. "You should just... go. I know you won't. But you should."     He sighs. "I suppose Martin finally left? I don't blame him. Who wants to stay here all the time caring for an invalid?" Bitterness drips from his tone, and for once he doesn't bother to bite it back. "I yelled at him. Yelled at Agnes. I probably would've yelled at you, if you'd been here."
Cael Becker	"Then yell at me, Jon. Yell right into my face if you need to. It's okay to be fuckin' pissed; I was. ...I am." But Cael doesn't move from where she is, one arm still wrapped around him, her body still pressed gently to his back.     "You can scream. You can cry. Hell, you can break shit if you want - but what you can't do is push me away, because I'm //here//. I'm right here, and even if I go away now and then, I'll come back to you."
Jonathan Sims	"I'm not mad at you," Jon replies. "I'm not really mad at Martin or Agnes either. It's just easy to lash out. You shouldn't take that from me... letting people hurt you so they won't leave is /my/ job." He laughs, but it's bitter.     "I was trying to make my own tea," he says after a moment, and his tone's gone hollow again. "I just can't seem to summon up a hand that has enough... manual dexterity. I dropped the mug. Martin said I ought to go in for a prosthetic, but..."     He frowns, staring at the wall. "I'm dying soon anyway," he says softly. "What's the point? Maybe I'll just get the arm back. Poof! All better."
Cael Becker	"I know you're not," Cael answers softly. "And I'm sure Martin knows that too. And- well, I'll let Martin make sure Agnes knows it as well." He's probably better suited for that sort of thing.     "You remember when you made your deal with Michael - how angry I got? How much I hurt you? But we got through that. It's okay if you're angry and hurting. I'd- I'd be pretty confused if you weren't. We'll get through this."     As he mentions his death, she can't help but feel a pang of fear and grief. She's come far in accepting it - in preparing for it, but nothing would ever make her like it. "Ay, Oruguita... I swear I'll find you, but neither of us have to like any of this shit. I sure as fuck don't."
Jonathan Sims	Jon's quiet for a little while, just staring at the wall, letting waves of pain and anger flow through him. Then he says, softly, "I want to hurt you, sometimes. To pay you back. You hurt me, when I just... when I'd just been trying to help. Been trying to protect you. It feels like... it'd only be fair, to hurt you. To lash out, to push you away." He shakes his head. "Vengeance, see? When you think that way, it... it affects /everyone/. Everything. Right now, /right now/, I feel like... if I turned over and yelled at you, threw it in your face--yeah, you hurt me, you fucking bitch--maybe it'd feel good. Maybe it'd help."     He sighs. "But it won't. I... I know it won't. Even if it feels good for a moment, I'll just feel awful, after. But I want to, and I /hate/ that I want to. I don't... I don't want to be that person."     He turns over, finally, staring at Cael in the dim light of the room. "/Am/ I that person? I yelled at Martin, and for a moment it felt /good/. Am I... am I /really/ that awful? To... take this out on the people I love?"
Cael Becker	"If you did... I'd understand, and I'd forgive you." She would... wouldn't she? She certainly liked to believe so.     As he turns in her arms to face, Cael offers a small, sad smile, her hand reaching out to brush gently at her cheeks. "There you are," she murmurs quietly.     She doesn't answer his qustion for a moment, and when she does, she only answers with a question. "Do you believe that I'm an awful person, for taking my pain out on you? Do you believe that lashing out in anguish makes someone //bad//?" Her gaze meets his steadily, her expression serious - tinged with sadness and concern.
Jonathan Sims	"You were hurting," Jon says softly, staring at her with just as serious an expression. "Seeing me hurt you, because you were afraid for me. Because you knew I'd be hurt. This isn't... it's not the same. It's... it's not... I know it hurts you, when I talk about dying, or to see me in pain, but this is..."     His brow furrows for a moment. "I'm /jealous/ of Martin. He's mostly recovered from his old wound. He didn't have to turn away from Lyra twice. It's easy for him to talk about prosthetics... he has pins in his leg, but he didn't lose a whole /limb/. I'm bitter, and resentful, and angry. He fusses over me, and I can tell he /likes/ being able to take care of me in a way that makes sense to him. It's infuriating, not least because of the way /he/ treated /me/ back when he got that injury. He didn't bother biting back all his bitter, resentful remarks. I let his daughter die, and he made it /very/ clear he blamed me for that."     He frowns, and looks away. "And you... when you... when you lashed out at me, when you couldn't stand to face me... it hurt. I was staring down the possibility of torture, and I kept having to reassure you. I /still/ keep having to reassure you, that I'm going to come back, that things are going to be okay. Making sure you know what's going on, making sure everything's prepared for you. But back then, no matter what I said, all you wanted was for me to break my word. To stop being /who I am/, so /you/ wouldn't hurt. And I'm still sort of mad about that. You hurt me, so I want to hurt you. That's all--I'm angry, I'm resentful, I'm bitter. Did you /enjoy/ seeing me in pain? Did you... feel some kind of satisfaction in it?"     He sighs. "I want to hurt Michael, too. And hunt down the men who used to be the boys that bullied me. And..." He closes his eyes. "I want to hurt everyone that's ever hurt me. To... get back at them, to prove them wrong. But how does that... help anything?"
Cael Becker	"No, I didn't get any satisfaction," Cael answers quietly. "It wasn't about hurt you. It was- it was only about protecting myself from more pain. It was wrong, and I'm sorry for hurting you, I am." She tilts her head closer, so she can press her forehead against his, breathing in deeply, and letting it out slowly. Breathing in his scent, and his presence, even as she feels a few tears welling in her eyes.     You can't just erase pain like this. It has to be endured, and passed through.     "You make me stronger, Jon. You reassure me when I'm frightened. Teach me when I'm confused. Guide me when I'm lost. You comfort me when I'm in pain. I want to do some of those things for you. I want to make you stronger - to comfort you, and reassure you." Cael wraps one of her arms around Jon - and uses her other hand to gently run through Jon's hair.     "Everything you're feeling is okay, and I'm here, and I'm sorry for every pain I ever caused you. I'm so sorry that I made you think about me, when maybe I should have been thinking about you. But I'm here now. I'm here for //you// now. Like you were there for me."
Jonathan Sims	"I know you are," Jon says softly. "I know. And that's part of why I /don't/ want to lash out, and hurt you. Because that momentary cruel satisfaction wouldn't be worth the pain it would cause, to us both. I just... I have to be honest with myself. And, honestly, I am quite often not a very nice person."     He closes his eyes. "How am I ever going to... to make it through the Weighing of the Heart when I have all this pain and anger and... cruelty and uncertainty...? How am I going to come /back/? It's not... I don't have enough /time/. And I don't... I don't want to stay dead. I don't. I... I h-hate this, all of it, I'm /trying/ to accept it, and sometimes I do, but I'm just..."     He sobs, and leans in toward Cael further. "I'm so /angry/. It's not /fair/. I don't have time for... for anything."
Cael Becker	"Neither am I," Cael answers wryly. "I'm a serious bitch."     As Jon starts to cry, she holds him close, feeling tears streaking down her own cheeks. "It isn't fair," she agrees quietly. "None of those is fucking fair." Please come back. Please come back. If she has to do all this - prepare the man she loves to //die,// and he doesn't come back - how does she live with that?     "Everyone has pain, and anger, and uncertainty. Everyone can be cruel when they're in this much pain. But Jon - you're not defined by your pain, are you? Your pain is not who you are. You're Jonathan Sims - Doctor, Healer, Warrior. You have so much kindness, patience. You're brave enough to face torture for your friends. To face death for the world. And you're compassionate enough to forgive, and strive to live without vengeance. //That// is who you are. That is a good man. Don't you think?"
Jonathan Sims	"That's who you see. That's who I /want/ to be. I just... I don't know if I... /am/. In here." Jon puts his hand on his chest, and takes in a shuddering breath. "But I'm trying. Gods know I'm trying. I just... I can't seem to see myself clearly. Through a glass, darkly, right?"     He sniffles, and opens his eyes, peer at her for a moment. "Kiss me?" he says. "And then tell me what you were up to, out there? Distract me, from all this... pain, and despair. Please."
Cael Becker	Cael put her own hand over Jon's - pressing down gently over his heart. "I see you, Jon," she reassures him. "You're human, and you're flawed, but you are a good, even admirable man. I see you," she promises - wishing she had the words to reassure him, and ease his pain. But this was //his// area of expertise, not his.     She does kiss him, though, trying to convey everything she felt and believed in one long, gentle, heartfelt gesture before she pulls back, peering at his nearby eyes.     "I went to see Lady Death," she tells him. "I visited her fortress, and she welcomed me."
Jonathan Sims	The kiss does seem to help. Jon relaxes somewhat, at least. As much as he helps with words, as much as he talks his way through things, in the end it's often touch that helps him--which makes his bouts of difficulty with being touched all the more difficult for him.     He smirks at Cael's words, though. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she welcomed you. She likes /you/. She wouldn't approve of all my... sniveling here in bed, I'm certain." He sighs. "What are her plans, then? Is she going to help us?"
Cael Becker	"Well then, fuck her," Cael says dismissively. "I was sniveling in bed too - wasn't I? Did you have to bring me burritos, and sing to me, to get me out of bed? Hrm?" she points out flatly.     "She's waiting for Michael to come to her. She wants to try to kill him. I didn't see the point in trying to disuade her, it just would have soured her mood. But - if she fails to save us all by killing Michael when he comes after the sixth wellspring... then she will accompany us to Duat. But she //will not take orders//. She was very clear on that."     There's a momentary pause before she adds, "And she gave me some gifts."
Jonathan Sims	Jon rolls his eyes. "She doesn't like me," he says. "I can't fathom her /ever/ liking me. I'm weak, and she doesn't like men, and she thinks I'm a man. She has some sort of issue with her father, and the fact that I'm a father makes me inherently bad, in her eyes. I tried to... honor her presence, to keep her informed, to warn her about the angels, and all she offered was ridicule and mistrust. I don't know how we're going to work together. She's been hurt, a lot, and she's let it turn her cruel and heartless. There's something kinder and better underneath it all, I can /tell/, but I'm never going to get through to her, not so long as I have a Y chromosome and a daughter."     Given the sheer bitterness in his tone, the weight of dripping sarcasm, that alone might be a major source of his pain and despair. How /is/ he supposed to work with someone who hates him just because he's a father, given how central that is to his identity?     "What did she give you, then?" He doesn't seem worried, or wary; curious, though it's guarded.
Cael Becker	"You let me do some of the talking?" Cael suggests. "Or... who knows. I mean, we won't be in the physical world anymore. You'll be... you there. Who you are at your core, at your soul. Are- ...are you sure you'll even be a man, there?" she points out, honestly curious to know the answer.     She gives Jon another soft kiss, and brushes her hand over his cheek before she answers how question. "She gave me a mote of... of Arcane, uh... Arcane... -of Energy Arcane! It flew into my chest and disappeared. She said it would... I don't know. Just //do// something, at the right time. Without me having to do anything." It's probably no surprise that this seems to puzzle Cael.     "And she gave me a sword. Jet black, warm to the touch, with a wavy, jagged edge like flame. It's //huge//. And the angrier I get, the more rage I pour into it... the more powerful it'll be." And she's awfully angry at Michael.
Jonathan Sims	Jon chews on his lip for a moment. "Do you remember, back on the 6th, how something in my chest kind of... pulsed, and then Lady Death appeared?" A pause. "She can... see things through that mote, though she might not bother. She can appear where it is. She provided me a shield that kept me alive--that's what saved me, from Caitlin throwing that tire at me."     He frowns, and reaches out to press a hand to her chest, briefly. "She can see us right now, if she likes. Hi there, if you're paying attention."     He looks up, pulls his hand away. "A sword fueled by rage...? Well, that will certainly..." He laughs. "See, this is why she likes you... because giving /you/ a sword fueled by rage is /obviously/ a good idea. You /are/ an awfully angry person, love." He smiles, genuinely.
Cael Becker	"...ah. I suppose that may be what she meant when she said she could simply //know// it was time to go to Duat," Cael muses thoughtfully, putting her hand over his, on her heart. She lets his hand slip out from underneath hers, and goes back to running her fingers through his hair instead.     "I fully intend to fuck Mikey up. I know you said no vengeance, but..." God she hates him so much. "I'm just glad you're not disappointed in me. Anyways, we have Fairchild and Lady Death on board now. ...it's gonna be alright. I- I wanted to have that done for you before you even came back. Sorry it took me so long."
Jonathan Sims	"I didn't want people actively hunting Michael down to take out revenge on him for what he did to me. But I can't stop you being angry at him; he's hurt you as much as he's hurt me, and you can do what you need, for yourself."     Jon frowns at her for a moment. "Why would I be disappointed in you? The things I say... they're about me, about what Michael did to /me/. I have no right to tell you what to do about what Michael did to /you/. If you need to hurt him more, I have no right to judge you for that."     He sighs. "I want to hurt him," he mutters. "I really, /really/ do. But I know it won't... help me. Not really."
Cael Becker	"I don't know," Cael answers softly. "For not being able to... rise above it?" She smiles wryly as she adds, "I'm working on living in the now. Enjoying the moment in front of me. Treasuring them - even this one. Even with the pain you're in... At least we're together, supporting one another."     She uses a finger to trace the lines of his face as she adds, "You know, any strength I'm able to give you... is strength you gave to me first. I wouldn't be on my feet without you."
Jonathan Sims	"Don't sell yourself short, love," Jon murmurs softly. "I helped, but you had to have the inner strength to stand up. Trust me... I've seen a lot of people in a lot of pain. I don't want to say that other people are... weak, or inadequate. But the best doctors in the world cannot save a patient whose body gives out entirely. The best therapist in history couldn't help someone who didn't /want/ to get better. However much I helped... a lot of it came from you."     He sighs, closing his eyes to enjoy the feeling of fingers on his face. "Stay here with me? Tell me it's okay to just give up on the rest of the day and stay in bed? We can watch something, anything you want."
Cael Becker	"I'm not selling myself short. You were the catalyst," Cael insists, as her finger moves down to the tip of his nose. Would Jon look the same when he came back? Would his arm be restored? There was still so much she couldn't know until it happened.     "And it is absolutely okay to give up on the rest of the day," she agrees. "And I have no intention of going anywhere. I've honestly never been much of one for movies, or TV." There's a long, pregnant pause before she finally asks, "Actually. ...have you ever heard of The Last Unicorn?"
Jonathan Sims	"It's one of my favorite books," Jon murmurs in reply. "And the movie did it better justice than most of my other favorite books. It's been years since I watched it, though, not since Lyra was a little girl."     He smiles sadly. "I spent a very long time in my life thinking I wanted to be Prince Lir, and love the unicorn. 'I love whom I love.'" He sighs. "And then one day I realized I wanted to be the unicorn--that I /am/ the unicorn, trapped in the wrong sort of form, learning about regret and love."     He reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind Cael's ear. "...Why? Did you want to watch it?"
Cael Becker	"I haven't seen it since I was a little girl," Cael offers quietly. And if there's one thing she talks of infrequently - it's her childhood. "I remember I loved that movie. Especially the butterfly. 'Won't you come home Bill Bailey...'" She gives a small, fond smile at the memory. "Think we can find it streaming somewhere? You wanna watch the Last Unicorn with me?" she invites.
Jonathan Sims	Jon smiles and leans in to kiss her on the forehead. "Of course, love. Anything you want," he repeats.     "I've been re-reading The Neverending Story," he adds quietly. "I was thinking it might have ideas to help us, in a world of imagination. It turns out Wonderland is real, after all... so who's to say, what else might be? Maybe even unicorns," he teases.