Owner	Pose
Marc Spector	The Midnight Mission is a nondescript building. On the outside it looks like any regular brownstone in one of the less reputable districts of New York. Nothing marks it as a Egyptian Temple to a lesser known deity. But to those who have heard the call of Khonshu, that is exactly what it is.     The inner hall is decorated with fine carpets and art pieces that for all appearances seem authentically Ptolemaic. There are a number of potted ferns and dim lighting to heighten the atmosphere of mystique and reverence. To one side are a pair of what look to be office rooms, perhaps for the maintaining of the Mission. Nothing in America is done without a litany of paperwork after all.     Further in is the temple proper which has been carefully crafted to look as if it truly is in the Egypt of old. Heiroglyphs line the walls and more ferns dot the open congregation area as do a number of simple, yet comfortable looking seats. The lighting here is even more subdued, the eerie silver glow over everything makes the room look like it is perpetually bathed in moonlight. The dominating figure of the room is the towering statue of the god Khonshu himself at the far end of the room. Easily twenty feet tall it has no defining characteristics aside from the crescent motif on its staff, chest, and forehead.     The Mission appears to be empty at the moment, there is a stillness and solemn peace hanging in the air.
Jonathan Sims	The door to the mission opens, and a tall, brown-skinned man walks in. He takes a moment to draw in a breath, then walks up to the statue and unwraps a bottle of wine--a /very/ nice bottle of wine, from an Egyptian winemaker. "This was supposed to be drunk at my birthday," he says softly, "but... I don't know that I'll feel like celebrating this year." He leans forward to set it at the statue's base, on the offering plate.     "I'm sorry I've never come here before. It didn't feel... appropriate." A pause. "I suppose you might not understand that. But I'm really not supposed to have anything like a personal relationship with my patients, not even a friendship." He sighs heavily. "And yet... here I am."
Marc Spector	There is movement to one side of the statue and a figure steps into the light. The figure is tall (but no taller than Jon) but his presence is imposing. He wears a white body suit of what might be kevlar armor with a crescent shape on the chestpiece. There are filaments of dull silver metal woven throughout the kevlar. A utility belt is wrapped around his waist, there are several crescent shaped shurikens locked into place on the belt (perhaps magnetic). Bracers of a brighter metal encase his forearms to the elbow and his boots are lined with metallic thread as well. His face is hidden by a full head mask with a crescent shape in the forehead. Hiding his features even more is the hood of a long white cloak billowing out behind him.     He carries a staff almost identical to the one being carried by statue of the god towering above them. Each step is punctuated by the metalic click of the staff on the stone floor of the cathedral. He stops a few feet from Jon and says in a deep resonant voice. "It's not good to ignore the day of your birth. There is more to it than simple celebration."     He can't loom over Jon as he does most people but there is a palpable /presence/ to the entity known as Moon Knight. "I take it you're here to discontinue any therapy sessions with my host?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon turns and swallows, eyes widening. "I... ahh... not... precisely? I..." He rubs at the back of his neck. "My... new patron insisted I needed to come here and speak to him. The outcome of that discussion is still uncertain. That /is/ a possibility, but... I need to at least... explain myself, I suppose."     He glances over at the wine bottle. "I... wasn't going to ignore it. But there's no one to share the bottle with. Or... or not..." Tears suddenly glimmer in his eyes; he blinks and lets them fall.
Marc Spector	Moon Knight (or perhaps it's Khonshu himself in this guise) nods and looks at the statue. "Grief never truly leaves until closure is born. You found the identity of your betrayer. Significant." He nods again. "You have friends. Allies. Those you are not treating, yes?" He turns and looks at the crying man next to him. "They alone should be aware of the date. And if it is not meant for celebration then they should at least join you in commiseration."
Jonathan Sims	"This grief will /never/ leave. I don't... I don't /get/ that." Jon's voice chokes up. "I remember. I remember everyone, clear as if they were still here next to me." He has to stop, and swallow, to get rid of the lump in his throat. Takes in a deep, shuddering breath.     "Do you disapprove of my need to, perhaps, stop treating your host? Would you be upset if that is the outcome?"
Marc Spector	Moon Knight is silent for a moment as he considers the question. "I don't disapprove. No. It's your choice what you see as a conflict of interests. My High Priest might see it as a complication, but he will understand when you speak with him about it later in this discourse. But it won't seed ill will toward you, if that is what you are asking."     He stares at Jon for a long time. "Thoth's mantle is a terrible burden to carry and one must ensure that they are mentally and physically equipped to properly carry it. I do not see the need for the former in you, but the latter... would you like some assistance in that matter?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at the man. "I... wait, what? I don't... umm..." He frowns. He's trying to imagine his grandmother, 'physically equipped.' "What... do you mean, exactly?"
Marc Spector	"The Mantle bestowed upon you by my brother is equipped with a number of defensive techniques to ensure it's survival" Moon Knight replies. "Longevity; the ability to heal;" he touches his chest. "To touch the minds of others;" he touches his temple. "To grasp and potentially manipulate the Beyond." He makes his hand into a fist. "These can help you against the beings of spirit and mind that can and will come for you." He reaches out and pushes Jon on the shoulder, jostling the man significantly.     "But the threats to you are not only of the mind and not only of /your/ body." There is an intense scrutiny coming from the masked man.     "What I offer is assistance in protecting yourself and those you care about. Being able to defend yourself from physical attacks so that you do not have to wash your hands in perpetuity." He looks over the man. "I cannot ensure your proficency in one night, but I can at least give you some protection should you encounter a level of threat and are without allies."
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns slightly. "I... would appreciate the help. I'm not certain exactly what you mean, and I'm... not certain I'll ever be /good/ at it. But I suppose I do have to figure that out at some point." Guilt crosses his features. What if he'd known how to defend himself when the assassins had come. Would Martin still be alive?
Marc Spector	"You are of a height with host, if significantly lighter in weight" Moon Knight says, regarding Jon more directly. "I can see if some of the pieces of my alternates will fit you. They will at least offer you protection from mundane threats. Bullets, blades, blunt force." He tilts his head a bit. "If I were to bestow you a weapon, what comes to mind as a good fit for you?" he asks.
Jonathan Sims	Jon thinks about it for a moment. "A staff, perhaps?" he says finally. "I... that feels right. The /Was/-sceptre Thoth carries, that is similar to a staff." He pauses, straightens, nods. "Yes. A staff." A pause. "Thank you."     "...One last thing? Did you know? I mean... what I am. What I was meant to be. When I met Marc, when you sent him to me... did you know?" He frowns at the... deity.
Marc Spector	"A staff it will be then" Moon Knight replied with a nod. "I believe there is something in the armory that could be of use." At the question he pauses. "I did not know the true extent of your purpose. But I knew that you were touched by one of my bretheren." He pauses. "Nothing I could have done or said would've prepared you, regardless. Thoth's mantle is beyond my control and I cannot even begin to think of how to train you in its use. I simply know what it does."     He sighs. "I believe you came to speak with my High Priest, yes? Should I relinquish control to him now for your dialogue?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "I'm not upset," he clarifies. "I just... needed to know, I suppose." He smirks.     Then he nods. "If you could? I need to sort this out."
Marc Spector	Moon Knight nods and then goes very still. There is a rush of wind through the temple and a burst of bright silver light from the figure. As it fades gone is the armor, belt, and cloak. In its place is the white suit and tie ensemble that marks the man as Mr. Knight, High Priest of Khonshu in New York City.     Mr. Knight rolls his shoulders and blinks at the sight of Jon. "Jake said you might be coming by..." he sounded solemn. "He said you had something important to talk to me about. Something to do with a conflict of interest?" He arched his brow at Jon inquisitively.
Jonathan Sims	Jon sighs. "Yes. I..." He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping, and runs a hand through his hair. It might occur to Mr. Knight that Jon looks... haggard. Tired. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks drawn and exhausted.     He looks to the offering plate, to the bottle of wine there. "I have had a rather... sudden change in status. I... am uncertain as to whether I can continue as your therapist." A pause. "Or as anyone's therapist, truth be told, but that isn't really your problem."
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight looks confused for a moment. "What do you mean? Why?" he asks. He seems to take in Jon's appearance and frowns. "You don't look good. What's happened?" It had been some time since he and the doctor had had a session; both of their schedules;' only accomodating a monthly visit these days.     He hesitated for a moment and then asked. "It may be none of my business, but if you are in trouble... I _am_ obligated, even required, to help you."
Jonathan Sims	"Why?" It's one of those sharp, piercing questions that Jon snaps out sometimes, but there is something else to it, something thick and heavy behind the words. There's a brief sense of compulsion that Mr. Knight can let roll off of him with ease, but that alone might be enough to alert him to the fact that something /odd/ is going on with the man.
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight does let the compulsion slide around him rather than into him. "That... is new..." he says. "You can affect minds now. Directly. Hmmm..." He pauses and considers the man. "To answer your question, I am obligated to help because it's what I do to those in my territory." His gaze is intent on the doctor. "You are in my territory. Your home, your interactions, your office. It's my territory and I am obligated by my title to assist you should you need it." He turned to face the doctor directly. "What has happened, Jon?"
Jonathan Sims	"Sorry, I--sorry. I don't mean... I keep..." Jon has /never/ been like this before, not in Mr. Knight's presence. It's certainly not surprising that the man might not be stoic and unaffected when in distress; he's certainly a proponent of emotional vulnerability much of the time. But to see the man who has talked Knight through crises and traumatic memories shaking, trying to hold back tears... it might be rather shocking.     "I am the Archivist now," he says. "A hereditary servant of Thoth. My grandmother died, and the mantle passed to me." His shoulders slump further, and he stares at a point past Knight's shoulder, a little dully. "My cousin wants to kill me. My husband is dead. I can read minds, and compel people to answer my questions, and who knows what-all-else. And my patron rather /firmly/ insisted I had to come here. But as I have told you before--we cannot have a relationship of any sort outside the bounds of therapist and patient, not while I am treating you."
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight considers Jon's words for a silent moment and then asks. "And if I was not your patient? What then?" he asks. "If I was to dismiss your treatment further? What would be the options available to us?" he asks.     "I am not saying that your treatment is not sufficient. Quite the opposite, I haven't felt this stable in... a very long time..." he says. "But if you are in trouble. You are someone I care about, Jon. Should harm come to you, it would in turn hurt me. If you are in danger, I *should* help you. At the very least in the name of self-preservation."
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "I don't... I don't want..." The look he gives Mr. Knight is almost desperate. "You were one of my first proper patients. If... if I can't..." He wraps his arms around his middle, hunches his shoulders a little. In that position he has to look up, just a little, to look at Knight. "If I'm not a psychiatrist then... then who /am/ I?"     Knight might recognize this; he's certainly seen enough people whose worlds are falling apart, trying desperately to cling to some piece of their normal existence. It's clear there are things Jon's not telling him, but even just what he's said is enough to have the man feeling like the world is spinning out of control.     Professional ethics have always been important to Jon; he has always been precise and clear about everything he has done, every choice regarding his choice not to try to force Marc Spector's various personalities to integrate, to forego medications in his treatment, to treat the others in his head as entirely separate people not truly under his care. He has meticulously recorded Spector's own declarations that the treatment has been helping, that he has been more stable, and had to be convinced that the recent emergence of "Mr. Knight" was not a step backward in treatment progress.     It's easy to believe that Jon is the sort of man who does, indeed, base his whole identity around his career. How could he not, after all? He's spent nearly half his life training for and performing the role.
Marc Spector	The look Mr. Knight gives Jon is sympathetic, even without seeing his face in the mask. "Jon... tell me what this Archivist is? You said you've become a servant of Thoth."     He puts a hand on the doctor's shoulder and slowly turns him toward a pair of chairs nearby. "You know that *I* am also a servant to an Egyptian deity. Maybe I can help you find some perspective in what you can be with this new... responsibility."     It was a strange turn in their relationship, Marc (in this guise) asking Jon to tell him his problems. The irony was not lost on Mr. Knight.
Jonathan Sims	Jon allows himself to be led, babbling a bit as he says, "I-it's, ahh, it's sort of a... well, I believe the actual title came into being around the time of Alexandria, but, ahh... that doesn't... really matter, does it?" He shudders, pulls in on himself a little. "Christ, I didn't realize how... how /quiet/ it is, without people's... thoughts pressing in on me. It's a blessed relief."     He sits down in the chair heavily, staying a little hunched. "The Archivist. Right. It, ahh... /records/. The Archivist... experiences events, listens to people's stories. To aid Thoth's judgement, to aid in the keeping of time, to... lord, I don't know what-all. It's important, I-I think. There's a, ahh, there's a demon involved. A proper, honest-to-Milton demon, that seems to want the power somehow. I... I don't... I didn't get all the details, it's... ahh... I don't... remember my dreams as well as real life, and John was being as cagey as ever about explaining /any/ bloody thing..."     He's rambling. He does that, of course, but it's usually more calm and focused, at least in Marc's experience. Is this new, or has the man always been like this, and was hiding it behind a veneer of professionalism?
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight doesn't sit. He listens for a moment then goes back to the offertory dias in front of the statue of Khonshu. He takes up the wine and reaches behind the dias to produce a pair of glass goblets. Not proper wine glasses, but they will have to do in a pinch. He pops the wine bottle and sets it on a table to breathe for a bit as he sits down himself. "Constantine?" he snorts. "He has a tendency to play his cards close to the chest, yes. Like inside his ribcage under the skin most of the time." There is a hint of irritation there but he lets it pass.     "So you're purpose is to observe? To record events as they happen?" He picks up the wine bottle and pours two glasses of the liquid. Setting the bottle down, he offers one to Jon. "Do they have to be significant? Or is it truly any event that catches your attention?"
Jonathan Sims	"It's... anything. Everything. And not just... observe, I don't think? I am supposed to... experience. Be a part of things, where I can." Jon reaches out a shaking hand to take the glass, shuddering so hard it almost spills right out of the goblet. "To... to /feel/ things. Pain and pleasure, fear and joy, rage and grief. If I... understand correctly, that is part of listening to the stories. The Archivist /experiences/ them, as if they were there, feels the emotions as if--"     He stops. Blinks. "Oh. /Oh./ That is... what I provide to Thoth. Not the mere record of what happens, but the /emotions/ of it, the... the /meaning./ The human meaning."
Marc Spector	"An interface for the god to understand what emotions were behind an action" Mr. Knight replies with a nod. He peels up the mask enough to show the lower half of his face. A clean shaven chin, with a small cleft in it. There is a scar there. A thin line running from the left corner of his mouth down to the tip of his chin.     After a sip of the wine he nods again. "Because the gods cannot fully understand the import of simple action; they need to know what mortals *feel* in order to fully understand why we do what we do." He nods to Jon. "And you provide Thoth, who judges all souls, with the *why* not just the *what*. Am I understanding you correctly?"     At Jon's nod he goes on. "Alright then. So, what about this makes your job as a therapist impossible? Isn't that all part of what a therapist does? You listen to people's problems. Their fears. Their joys. And you take in what they do, and why they do it, and in turn give them guidance. Should their actions be reprehensible--you offer them alternatives to those actions or give them a medication that will help them find alternatives themselves. Or if their actions be causes for joy--you tell them what they can do to reinforce those actions and continue that path to happiness."
Jonathan Sims	"Yes, I-I know that, I think that's why I was... drawn to the profession in the first place. But, ah, being a psychiatrist requires... office hours and note-keeping and bookkeeping and... and..."     Jon's hands shake even harder and he downs the glass of wine in one long gulp, as if afraid he might spill the liquid even with it just half-full. "There are vampires. And magic, and demons. Heaven and Hell. My /cousin/ wants to /kill me./ And I know this because a man I thought was dead turns out to be alive and well and practicing magic and making deals with demons and he swallowed /nightshade/ to try to find the men who killed my husband because I /showed up in his pub/." He laughs shakily. "A pub, I will note, that he somehow brought whole from Liverpool!"     Jon looks up at Mr. Knight, eyes wide and terrified. "I... I don't... I'm one of /you/ now, Marc."
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight is taken aback by the long downing of the wine and continues to sip his own. "One of me?" he asks. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asks. "I do not have telepathic powers or a desire to experience everything." He adds. "And I certainly do not truck with demons and magic. Vampires... occasionally, but the rest is beyond my area of expertise. That's the sort of thing..." He pauses. "Oh you're talking about John. I see."     "Still I don't know how this makes you remotely similar to me," he says, pausing to finish his wine and refill both glasses at half. "Unless you want to be."
Jonathan Sims	Jon stares at Knight in incredulity. "You're /special/! Like... like, yes, John, and... the superheroes and the mutants and witches and..." Did he really just... lump all of those things together? From his point of view, was Moon Knight really no different from John Constantine or Captain America or one of the X-Men?     Evidently so, by his expression.
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight puts a hand to his forehead and rubs at it for a moment. "Alright. First off, what you just did there? John, myself, the Avengers, the X-Men, and those who have magical ability..." He waves a hand in an all encompassing manner and then waves it again as if dissappating the entire idea. "We're not the same. In any way. Each of us are focused on our own agendas, and from a high level view... one could mistake those agendas as the same, but that is vast oversimplification of what we all do."     "Secondly" he said, sipping from his new wine and gesturing to the glass in front of Jon. "I think you might be more inline with John, and for that you have my sympathies. He's... difficult at the best of times but from what you tell me, he might be willing to help you. Maybe he'll even help you learn about your gifts. They seem more in his area than my own."     "And lastly, that doesn't make you unable to do what you do Jon" he says, matter-of-factly. "Many of those people still have regular jobs. Some are teachers, others entertainers, even others are full time soldiers. S.H.I.E.L.D. is--or at the very least *was* last time I checked--a government funded agency, after all."
Jonathan Sims	"Don't... /condescend/ to me, Marc," Jon snaps, anger managing to still his shaking. "I know very well you're all different in method, but the fact remains that any one of the people you just mentioned has /vastly/ more power than the majority of the population. The people that killed my husband don't care that I'm more like John than like you. They care that I have /power/. And they didn't care before this happened to me. So... so just..."     He shakes his head, and abruptly stands. "This is all /quite/ beside the point." He's almost visibly pulling professionalism and detachment around himself. "I came here to discuss the nature of our ongoing relationship, but if you are so certain we're that /dissimilar/ I suppose I needn't have bothered. I am on bereavement leave for at least another month. I am certain Rosie can make an appointment if you call."
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight stands. "Jon. Wait." He sets the glass down and pulls the mask back down over his mouth. "You're afriad... I get that and you need help. I don't know that I'm the right guy to help you, but I can try." He sighs and moves closer while still being far enough to be outside the man's personal bubble.     "What do you want to do? About my position with you? Do you want my help and feel that as my therapist you can't ask for it?" he asks. "If that is the case, like I said, then you aren't my therapitst anymore. Your safety is more important than that." He gestures, trying to appeal to the man. "Or is it that you just need a friend to talk to? Like I've talked to you all this time? Someone who isn't going to try to kill themselves in order to solve it now?"
Jonathan Sims	"I..." Jon stares at Knight. "I'm not... this isn't about... me. It's about... if... if Thoth and Khonsu want us to work together, then I am under an obligation not to treat you as a therapist. And that... well... that means that you wouldn't have a therapist anymore. I... argued with Thoth about it quite extensively." A pause. "Well. I argued and got the consistent feeling I was supposed to come talk to you anyhow."     Wait a minute. Jon's been flagellating himself over the possibility that since they both serve Egyptian gods they should work together--reasonable--and that would leave Marc without a therapist... /purely/ for Marc's sake? The guy's certainly selfless enough to be a hero.
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight lets his hand drop and then starts to laugh. "Oh my... Jon. You... You can't be serious..." He laughs so hard he doubles over. "You are here because you're worried that I won't..." He laughs more, slapping his thigh from the humor of it all. "Jon... if Thoth says you and I have to work together because we both serve the moon, then we have to work together and that's that."     He tries to get the laughing under control but it's a tenuous thing. He's still chuckling. "So you're not my therapist anymore..." he takes a breath. "I think that maybe part of the process is that I don't truly need a therapist." He rises and looks a Jon, his breath coming in slow deep inhales. "What I need, I've realized, is a friend that doesn't run when I tell them I hear voices in my head."
Jonathan Sims	Jon glares at Knight, a flat stare, irritated. "That's not... I am /not/..." He keeps glaring. If anything, the glare only /deepens/. He folds his arms across his chest. He... /glares/. "It's a valid concern! It... I... if you're /truly/ okay with..."     Something vulnerable peeks out from beneath the irritated glare. ".../Is/ that okay? Do you... truly think all you need now is a friend? I... I don't disagree with you. I don't. Of course, I believe everyone could benefit from therapy but I hardly believe everyone needs to /stay/ in therapy forever."
Marc Spector	Mr. Knight moves forward more and claps Jon on the shoulder. It's a friendly clap, not meant to knock the man to the ground. "It's perfectly okay, Jon. Truly. You've helped me in ways that no other therapist has and honestly... just having someone to talk to from time to time--without needing an appointment--might be easier on my time and schedule."     He shrugs. "Steven's trying to take a larger hand in his business and that makes my time very... constrained." He frowns from the tug on the mask. "So yeah, it's really okay. As long as you're not going to get all 'professional crime fighters can't be friends' on me."
Jonathan Sims	Jon blinks at him almost owlishly. "I... I mean, you don't have... /do/ you have that sort of... ethical constraint? I would hardly think..." He's not quite getting humor just now, it seems.     And then he blinks and goes. "Oh! Oh, that... was a joke." He chuckles weakly. "No, I am not... to be perfectly honest, it is a relief that my telepathy doesn't seem to work on you. I've been... /overwhelmed/. I could use a friend too." How did a man who managed to look small and soft and helpless at over six feet tall ever project the 'calm doctor' persona he typically wore?
Marc Spector	"Then come back and sip some more with me" Mr. Knight said. "Please." As he turns to move back to the chairs, he asks almost causally. "Did John mention what's going on tomorrow? I mean, if you are one of us now... you should probably come along, to get a feel for what you might encounter as one of our kind."
Jonathan Sims	"He did not." Because of course he didn't. Jon slowly unwinds, goes to sit back down, and offers the goblet out for more wine. "Please, enlighten me?"