Owner	Pose
Sara Pezzini	Cael had gone to bed, or perhaps she had gone out again, Sara had actually lost track and that wasn't like her at all... nothing was like her right now. She sat in the mostly dark the living room, looking at a picture of her father, the one she carried in her wallet, with no expression on her face at all. Finally, she picked up her phone and sent a text to Jon. 'I need to talk.' That's it, nothing more.
Jonathan Sims	It's late, but Jon hasn't been able to sleep. Which /is/ like him, though he's been doing better of late. Oddly enough, the extra responsibility has him taking better care of himself. This means that when he gets the text from Sara he's awake. He texts back 'On my way,' and grabs a portal over to the Triskelion, knocks on the door to Sara and Cael's temporary quarters and lets himself in.     "Sara?" he calls as he comes in--softly in case Cael's asleep. "It's Jon. You said you needed to talk?"
Sara Pezzini	Still sitting on the couch, a single light on the desk on, Sara has a glass of whiskey in her hand and the picture of her dad in the other. She doesn't look up when he steps in, who else would it be, she just takes another sip of the whiskey and sets her wallet on the coffee table. "Do you ever remember me talking about the week of my memory I lost?" she asks quietly, not because Cael might be asleep, but more because she'd like to not talk about it at all. She finally looks up at him, before reaching into the couch cushion to pull out the bottle of whiskey which also gets set on the coffee table. A second glass sits there empty, in case Jon wants imbibe. "I don't talk about it often, if ever, I don't know if I ever mentioned it to you."
Jonathan Sims	Jon comes over to sit down, frowning. He leans over to take the bottle of whiskey and pour himself a glass--partly to be polite and sociable, but partly because he suspects he might want the drink by the time the conversation's done.     "I don't think you've mentioned it, no. Maybe... once in passing?" He shakes his head. "It doesn't stand out. But... I presume you've gotten it back?" He raises his eyebrows and sits back, holding the glass of whiskey.
Sara Pezzini	An entire week of Sara's life has been missing for nearly a year, and the memories hit her like a ton of bricks falling from a great height. The missing piece of Witchblade that had been stolen by the Thule Society and used to create the copy the team had fought was returned, and with it the memories that now haunted her in a way nothing else ever had. Not since the day she obtained The Witchblade had Sara felt so lost, and the emotional and mental trauma of that week has left her raw, exposed, and vulnerable. She knew there was no hiding from what had happened, no more plausible deniability... she knew what had occurred and there was no way to run from it. "Almost a year ago," she offers, looking toward him as he sits, but not at his face. "At first, it was more than that one week, there were complete sections of a year missing, but that all came back... one week, it never came back... until I woke up in the med-bay."
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns. He remembers /everything/, in perfect clarity; the few things he doesn't remember clearly bother him, as much as he dislikes the perfect recall. To be missing an entire week...?     "That sounds... frustrating. And frightening."     He hesitates a moment. Prompting her to continue might inadvertently trigger a statement, and he doesn't want to do that, not to a friend. Not without asking. So he says, carefully, "Getting the missing piece of Witchblade back... restored your memories? I noticed he'd changed again."
Sara Pezzini	Sara lifted her wrist to look at the bracelet, it looked a lot like a fancy shackle to her eyes, even had a lovely red stone to remind her of blood. There is a slight glare to her eyes at it, then she drops it back into her lap and takes another sip of the whiskey. "It wasn't just a coincidence, no," she finally says. "But it also wasn't intentional or planned." She finally looks up at his face, but not his eyes, at least she was getting closer. "He didn't want me to remember what happened, he was protecting me from that memory because... I asked him to. In the heat of moment..." She shakes her head almost violently, as if that would just force it out of her head. "He's offered to take it away again, but...." she closes her eyes, voice pained. "It's too late."
Jonathan Sims	Jon swallows, and says softly, "I... tend to believe a painful truth is better than a pleasant lie... but I also know some things are too terrible to bear." There's no judgement in his tone, just... understanding.     He takes a sip of the whiskey, and waits for her to continue. Patiently. Maybe he's not officially being a therapist, but he knows how to sit and wait for someone to speak about the worst thing that's ever happened to them.
Sara Pezzini	Sara's eyes go blank and distant, not in the same way they do when The Witchblade is demanding her attention or showing her a vision though. This was more like she is looking past this moment to the past she had forgotten, and her voice goes even lower in tone and fills with pain. "This... is..." she stammers. "Listen, once I start, I'm not going to be able to stop... but I have to know you won't repeat this." Now she looks to his eyes. "I know I have to face this, I have to deal with this, and I probably have to be punished for this, but... in my time, alright?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods, locking eyes with her. "I swear. Not a word to another soul... whatever you say. Whatever happened, it doesn't leave this room." It clenches in his stomach for a moment. None of the usual 'if you're a danger to yourself or others.' It's more the seal of the confessional than the protections of patient confidentiality, but that's more what he is now anyway.     He smiles, though it's tinged with a furrowed brow, with worry. "I'm used to keeping secrets, Sara. /Nobody/ will know. Not Cael, not Peggy, not /anyone/. I promise."
Sara Pezzini	A nod, acceptance. Sara believes his words, but then he was a friend and she trusted him, it was just something that had to be said, confirmed. He'd know why, he'd understand, if he didn't hate her. "It started out like any other night. I'd been working a missing persons' case for two weeks, Mindy and Matthew Richards. I was following a strong lead given by a sanitation worker who swore he'd seen the twins being carried into a back alley in Queens during his late night shift." Another sip of the whiskey, before she looks back at nothing and just keeps talking softly. "He had described them in detail. Blonde hair, wearing their matching school uniforms, appeared unconscious but alive. Of course their pictures had been all over the news, the most recent school photos with the twins in their uniforms. What we hadn't disclosed was that that Mindy's hair had recently been cut short, and Matthew hadn't the jacket the day they went missing, he was in a blue vest. The man had described the twins just like that, and so I thought the lead was real. I thought I had actually gotten the lead that would take me to them, alive." "What I didn't know at that time, there was no way I could have known, but the worker who called in the lead was an agent the Thule Society planting just the right information for me to follow and lead me into a trap." Her tone turns bitter and distant, before with whiskey in hand, she stands to start pacing the small space called the living room.
Jonathan Sims	Jon sits quietly, listening, sipping the whiskey from time to time. He flexes a hand on his knee when she mentions that she was looking for children; children in trouble always bothers him. But he listens, without speaking.
Sara Pezzini	"The back alley he indicated had three doors in it, two opened into an old abandoned apartment building, the other was entrance to a restaurant's basement. I checked the basement first and found it clean, but having obtained permission I knew it would be. That left the abandoned apartments. I should have called for back up, I honestly have no idea /why/ I didn't call for back up. Maybe it was one of those moments where I was being a glory whore, I don't know... should have called." She pauses there, laughing bitterly. "That's a lie, I know why I didn't. Witchblade, I thought I could handle some kidnappers. Come on... it's Witchblade, what could some humans do?" Another larger drink is taken from her glass. It was time to buckle down and just get this out. "The first several apartments on the first floor were empty, the last one was not. That's when it happened." Stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes go dark and the tone of her voice fades to an almost whisper filled with venom, disgust, and pain. "The magical circle was right below the carpet inside the front door, I wouldn't have been able to see it even if I knew to look for it, so I stepped right into it. Red smoke whipped up around, I felt myself breath it into my body before I could stop, before Witchblade could even react, then an inferno like heat ripped through my body and into my mind." "In that instant I was no longer me." She breaths out slowly, then pushes on. "I was an entity trapped behind bars in my own mind, unable to control my own body, watching everything from inside through my own eyes like a window to the world I was no longer a part of. I couldn't do a damn thing, I just stood there like a statue as Ava von Strucker, the leader of the Thule Society, stepped from the shadows, laughing. She was the one in control." Her face registers the anger, the frustration, and the horror of it all over again, reliving that moment with Jon watching.
Jonathan Sims	There's nothing but pained sympathy on Jon's face. He opens his mouth as if to say something, then closes it, firmly. Whatever platitudes he has, he can save them for later. She needs to get this out. So he takes a long drink of the whiskey, and listens.
Sara Pezzini	"It had all been an elaborate trap to magically gain control of me, and through me, of The Witchblade. I swear to every god and goddess out there, it wasn't me. I was there in my own head, watching myself like it was some kind of movie. I fought, I slammed myself against the inside of the cage in my head but nothing worked. She tried reaching for the bracelet, but he changed into the gauntlet which pissed her off. I guess she had suspected she wouldn't be able to take it because that's when she laughed she said, 'I had to try, would have been so much easier to just take it. Now my darling, you will armor yourself and come with me.'" Sara's entire body began to shake, making it difficult to for her remain standing so she finally sat herself back on the couch and breathed out, "I did it. I wanted to stab her, to shove a blade into her body repeatedly and at the time I had no idea who she was, but Witchblade wrapped the armor into place around me as if I had told him to. I know I didn't ask him to, but it happened all the same. Even as it was happening she ordered me to follow her to the backroom of the apartment. She called me her puppet and told me she needed me to kill for her to seal the magics she had been working." She paused again, licking her lips before taking another drink of the whiskey, a large drink, a very large drink. She wanted to stop there, she really didn't want to tell this part, but it had to be spoken, it had to be known no matter how much pain it caused. It was almost over and someone would know and maybe, just maybe, it would make a difference.
Jonathan Sims	Jon clenches his jaw. He can guess what's coming next, but he just nods, and waits for her to be ready to say what had happened.
Sara Pezzini	"It was the twins," she managed to breath out. "Oh gods, it was Mindy and Matthew. They had both been tied up and were gagged. Their little bodies had been placed in some kind of ritual pattern on the floor. I was screaming inside my own head, screaming and screaming but nothing could hear me because my body wasn't my own! The short sword appeared in my hand and I started to move toward them, that's when I heard von Strucker hiss, 'No! It cannot be quickly, they must bleed to death!' Their eyes pleaded with me, they were sobbing against the gags." Sucking in a quivering breath, no longer able to hold it back or hold it in, she begins to cry, the tears sliding from her eyes and down her cheeks unchecked. "I... I couldn't stop myself! The short sword changed to a stiletto knife and I followed her orders! I slit their wrists and... and held them down... I... I held them there as the blood flowed from their bodies into the circle, empowering it, then empowering the metal at the center of it all. I held them through the struggling, their desperate cries getting less and less, the struggling getting weaker and weaker, until they bled to death!!" It was too much, Sara couldn't take any more and fell into sobs that wracked her body. The glass of whiskey fall from her hands to the floor as she covered her face. The revulsion, the horror, and the disgust at herself was overwhelming and she cried, cried for the children, cried for their parents, for the lives she had taken and that she had been too weak to stop it from happening. Witchblade had tried to make it right by making her forget, but this was something she had to live with, she had done it and she had to go on living with that knowledge. There was more to tell, more that happened but for the moment she was lost in the pain and agony.
Jonathan Sims	Jon puts the glass of whiskey down and gets up, goes to kneel down in front of Sara. He hesitates, then puts a hand on her arm. He /wants/ to give her a hug, but he's not sure how she'd take that just now. But all that's on his face is sympathy, and when he speaks there's still no judgement.     "Go on," he says softly. "It's like poison. Get it out, and the wound can start to heal."
Sara Pezzini	Jon's mistake was getting in arms reach and almost immediately Sara hugs him. They may not be exactly that close of friends, but after this, they would be and she really needed that physical contact to remember she was alive. When she finally regained herself, she looked up through blurry red eyes, right at Jon's face, and let him go, almost sheepishly really, but she started talking again, quietly, softly. "As if that wasn't enough, it didn't end there. Their parents, more kids, more parents, I remember it all now. It was me, or rather my body, doing what von Strucker wanted. I see their faces, I hear their cries for mercy, but there was none. She gave them none, so I gave them none. They were all used to fuel the ritual, to form the metal into the impostor Witchblade." "I won't go into what she did when I wasn't killing for her. I have to live with it, and compared to everything else," she almost laughs in disgust. "What's a little fondling, right? I will say that it was the catalyst for my escape. I think the original spell weakened, she was so cock sure it would never waver, she never bothered to enforce it. In one very brief clarifying moment, I managed to break out of that cage in my head long enough to scream into reality as myself. In that moment Witchblade realized he had been deceived, that it hadn't really been me, and he broke the spell entirely, just shredded it like tissue paper." Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt, she continues, the end is near and she wants to get to it, "All I could think, as I fought my way through her minions on my way out of that building, was that I didn't want to remember what had happened. I didn't want to know what I had done, I didn't think I could live with that knowledge, it hurt /so/ bad inside of me... and Witchblade complied. To make up for his mistake in not realizing what had happened, for allowing me to kill innocent people using him, he... took it all away. He thought it was what I wanted, he thought he was doing the right thing to protect me." "He's angry. Very, very angry at von Strucker, and at himself. He wants revenge as much as I do. I used to think justice was enough, but it's not... not for this. I want von Stucker dead, nothing else will satisfy me or The Witchblade for what she's done." She holds up her wrist again. "He is keeping the other, because lives were taken to create it that should not have been, he will not let those deaths be in vain, he refuses, and I... I agree with him." Sara finally stops, the tale is told. "Those families deserve justice, so you have to decide what happens next. Do I turn myself in for the crime of their murders, and thus they receive that justice for their killer being behind bars or... what? What happens now? I won't use The Witchblade again. I know it's not his fault, but this would never have happened if he wasn't attached to my soul."
Jonathan Sims	Hugs are never a mistake. Jon returns the hug firmly and smiles, briefly, when Sara pulls back. Then he keeps listening, right to the end, his expression only turning disgusted when Sara mentions what was done to her when she wasn't killing.     He doesn't answer right away. He blinks, instead, and tears fall from his eyes. "Gods," he whispers. "Gods, Sara, I'm... /so/ sorry that happened to you." He rubs at his face, and hugs her again, then pulls away to stand. To pace the floor himself. To think.     "My initial reaction is to say that von Stucker is the one that killed them, not you. I know what the law would say, that you're an accessory or manslaughter or something, but... gods, there has to be a bloody exception for /mind control/."     He stops pacing and turns to look at her. "I mean... you're the /victim/ here, Sara. Even... even if your hands did the killing, your /mind/ did not. You fought. You escaped as soon as you could. And that doesn't make what was done with those hands any easier to bear, but..."     He swallows. "I... I know what it is, to... to do things you would /never/ do, if not for mind control. This von Stucker sounds like a right piece of work, cut from the same cloth as my old mentor. And I know how hard it is... maybe even impossible... to even see your hands as clean. But..." He shakes his head. "/I/ wouldn't tell you to turn yourself in. I would tell you to bring the true killer to justice, even if that justice is death by your hand. To tell the families that she is the one responsible for the deaths of their loved ones. Because she /is/."
Sara Pezzini	The second hug is welcomed, but Sara wouldn't permit any more tears, aside from those sneaking out of her corners of her eyes. Those weren't her fault, they needed freedom. When he steps back, she doesn't stop him, it was his turn to pace and she understood it. Although the carpet would smell like whiskey for a while, but then so would Sara. Picking the dropped glass up, she wipes the top on her shirt then pours more whiskey into it. "I hear the words, I know their meaning," she breaths slowly. "But I still see the blood on my hands. What kills me... I looked at that cold case a hundred times, I read the reports I'd made up to that point, and the reports of other officers once they took over, cursing the monster that would kill children..." Was she a monster? At the moment she felt like one, because it was her hands, mind controlled or not, and yet it wasn't... it was von Strucker's hands and she was the puppet. Did that make it better? No. "He agrees," she whispers. "That justice would be served by getting von Strucker, but he wants to kill her..." So badly, so, so badly. "And so do I, even though I know that's wrong... so does that mean capturing her? Bringing her to SHIELD? She's a powerful witch or sorceress or whatever... she has numerous modes of escape at the top of her fingers." Looking to him as he paces she asks bluntly, "Do we kill her or capture her?"
Jonathan Sims	"I would never say kill," Jon says with a sigh. "Not unless there's no other way. Death is final and inevitable. Death leaves no chance..." He shakes his head. His views on forgiveness, on restitution, don't entirely matter here.     "But... a sorceress who can escape if she isn't killed... lord, I don't know. I mean, we bound an angel, but look where that got us." He gestures, vaguely, as if at... everything. "And she's after the Witchblade, and who knows what else she's doing in the meantime. If she'll come and try again. Gods."     A beat. "Maybe one of us could judge her. Me, or Johnny. He... he might have a better handle on what to do about her. I am meant to judge immortals, to protect humans from things that do not die in the normal course of matters. The Ghost Rider is better at vengeance, and justice, for mortals." He frowns. "But... I don't know what you tell him, about what happened."
Sara Pezzini	Johnny... Wade... Cael... people who would eventually have to be told, just not today, or tomorrow. She would tell them, perhaps not all the details, but the truth none the less. "She was already judged," she finally says after a moment of silence, rattling around in her own head the facts that existed. "I remember her screaming at the impostor before she disappeared... even though at the time it was her screaming at me... his memories are in here as well." She taps her head a few times, then takes a large drink of the whiskey. "She wasn't expecting the Ghost Rider, or Artemis for that matter. He apparently judged her then and there." Zarathos judged her, not Johnny, but she wouldn't say that. "He's prepared to do what needs to be done, I'd never ask that of you... I'm already asking too much with... this. I'll tell him, I'll tell him, Wade, and Cael.... they'll all want in on her death, but... Johnny and Wade, they'll want her blood far more than anyone else."
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods. "I'm willing to help," he says softly. "Even in killing her, I'm willing to help, if you need backup. I'm willing to listen. I'm willing to... I don't know, testify on your behalf. Whatever you need." He smiles, sadly. "I'm willing to keep Cael busy if you need time alone... or make sure she's here, if you need her."     He sighs, and stops his pacing, turns to face her. "You thought I'd hate you," he says softly. "You thought you'd lose a friend. Didn't you?" He shakes his head. "I can see that von Stucker may deserve death. It's just... difficult, for me to deal it out in judgement. If the Rider has judged her, then I trust his judgement."     He smiles, a bit wryly. "But... not you, Sara. I could never judge you worthy of that. I know all you see is the blood on your hands, but I see a woman trying to wash them clean. I'll be here, for however long it takes you to come to see that yourself."
Sara Pezzini	The stare is obvious, right at Jon. Yes, she thought it would end the friendship, after all wasn't she just another murderer? Yes and no, and that is why her brain was fighting to hard for some kind of logical answer to a chaotic, impossible question. In her head there was agreement with what Jon said, about it being von Strucker and not her, and yet there was also disagreement. There was blame, oh boy was their blame. Some for her, but most went to Witchblade himself, not for protecting her by concealing the memories, but for existing, for choosing her, for changing her life, for being the reason for those deaths as her hands, the deaths of her partners for them being in her life with Witchblade... so much blame, so much anger and confusion. Yes, the stare was obvious because with all that going through her head, he was still there and that meant she wasn't alone. At least one of the people she considered her 'family' remained and at that moment, that was everything, that was sanity, and calm which is what she needed. "I really did think it was too much," she finally admits. "That you'd leave, or turn me in, or something... that I'd be alone. Right now, I don't know what to do... I just know I need time, to try and figure it all out. Does that make sense?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods. "It does. It really, really does. It always takes time, when terrible things happen. And, look, I know the bloody world's ending or whatever," he actually rolls his eyes, "but you can take some time to figure this out. We'll hold down the fort while you process this. You matter, /this/ matters. There's no... there's no /point/ in any of what we're doing, if we don't band together and help each other."     He hesitates, then says, "Sara... I've heard worse. I've heard a /lot/ worse. From people who /meant/ to do the terrible things they did. I don't judge based on what happened back then. I judge based on what you're going to do about it here and now. How you're going to bring yourself back into harmony with yourself, and the world. That's all that matters, to me, as your friend. And I know that'll take time. It always does."     He sighs. "Is there anything I can do right now? Anything you need?"
Sara Pezzini	Sara puts the glass on the table as she stands, then walks over and hugs the man again. Three in one night, and each one for a different reason. One to remember living, one to comfort and one to show appreciation. The tears were finally stopping, no more escaping water from the corner of her eyes that she had been ignoring. "Thank you, Jon," she says quietly while hugging him, then without warning kisses his cheek just before stepping back. "Right now, no. I'm going to finish that glass of whiskey, write a letter to my dead father, then try to sleep. If the universe doesn't end, I'll wake up tomorrow and see where I am. This is going to be a day by day thing, until its not and I've got all the pieces back in place." A hint of a smile plays at her lips before she adds, "And yes, I mean back in place, not just shoved aside to be dealt with later. This... this has to be handled now, inside my own head."
Jonathan Sims	"The universe won't end," Jon promises. "Not in the new few weeks, anyway. Too many people are banding together to make sure it stays functioning." He smiles, and reaches down to pick up the glass of whiskey he put down. Drinks it all at one go, because even though he doesn't blame Sara in the slightest that was a /lot/ to listen to.     "I'll check in, okay? And I know you'll probably tell me to piss off, but I /would/ suggest talking to a therapist. SHIELD has some good ones, who'll listen without judgement. When you're ready, /if/ you're ever ready." He grins. "And... if you're not... or even if you are... I'm willing to listen, as a friend. But I'm glad you know not to shove it aside. That's..." He smirks. "I've had my own object lessons about that, recently. It's never a good idea."
Sara Pezzini	For some reason, something Jon said makes Sara actually chuckle, just a little but still, it was there. "I'd never say piss off, Jon," she comments, half grinning. "It's fuck off here in America. But seriously... I'll think about it. I have a hard time talking about shit with friends, so a therapist? Meh..." "Go get some sleep," she then comments, realizing she not only dropped that ton of bricks on him, but that it was very later, or way too early depending on how you looked at it. "If I need to talk again, I'll let you know... but yes, I know you can't lock shit up forever and expect it to get better."
Jonathan Sims	Jon smirks. "Yes, yes, I know. I have to hold onto a few things from home lest New York overwhelm me entirely." He goes to set the glass back down. "Think about it, anyway."     Then he nods. "Yeah... I've got a battle to fight on the morrow." He... actually says that with a straight face. 'On the morrow.' New York is hardly going to overwhelm him anytime soon. "Sleep well when you can. If you can. A day at a time; good plan." Then he turns to go.
Sara Pezzini	Sara walks him to the door, not because he doesn't know the way, but because it's the least she can do. At some point in the future, if there was one, she was going to throw this man a huge assed party and everyone was going to give him something off his 'I've always wanted of those' list. "Sleep well, Jon, and be safe," she offers, then closes the door behind him.