Scene #9993: Statement of Jonathan Sims

Owner	Pose
Jonathan Sims	The sun is setting as Jon and Cael head up to the roof of Grand Central Station to drink and smoke and talk. In a few hours, the resistance will head to Isham Park in Inwood, and make a bunch of noise to keep the angelic hosts busy while Lydia and her group set up and start casting the Great Seal. The second-to-last wellspring is the element of earth, and in a place so profoundly connected to Gaea's power that the angels haven't dared go near. So they have time, to relax a bit before the battle. Jon expects that he'll be handing himself over to Michael any day now; maybe not directly after the battle, but soon. He cleared the air with Martin earlier today, and now he wants to sit down and tell Cael the difficult things he's been through. It'll balance their relationship, perhaps; he knows many of her darkest secrets, so why shouldn't she know his? He flew up to the roof, but gets rid of the wings as he settles himself in a perch atop the greenish edge of the Grand Central Terminal roof. Behind them stretch wooden walkways and metal catwalks, the perilously thin roof of the Main Concourse, the shining, humming pieces of the huge complex's ventilation apparatus. But Jon's chosen to sit there at the edge of the slope, behind the giant Tiffany clock, where they can look out over E 42nd and Park Avenue, as the city begins to light itself up around them. "How're you feeling?" he asks quietly. He's probably going to keep asking, since Sara's still back at the Triskelion medical ward. "Still up for this?" There's no real doubt in his voice, more just one last chance to back out.
Cael Becker	Cael has flown herself up - something she still hasn't quite grown use to. Then again, she's fairly certain Jon hasn't either, as she takes a moment to study the colorful wings sprouting from his back. Their lives are so fucking weird. "Oh, I feel like shit," Cael answers simply. "But I want to hear it, Jon, and tell me honestly - when the fuck are our lives going to give us a good moment to talk about this sort of shit?" As she's talking, she's lighting up a joint. She doesn't take deep, heavy drags like she had the last time he saw her with a joint - she seems determined to enjoy this one more slowly, and after drawing in a small puff, she offers it wordlessly over to him - in case he wants a little, as well. "You start when you're ready. I intent to pretend we have all the time in the world."
Jonathan Sims	Jon takes the joint and takes a couple of puffs on it before passing it back over. He pulls out a bottle of Yamazaki 12 Year and conjures up a pair of glasses before he opens the bottle. "Maybe we have all the time in the world, but /I/ have never tried Japanese whiskey, and I hear this is one of the best." He pours some of the liquid into one of the crystal glasses he conjured, hands it over to Cael, and then pours his own glass before he peers up at the sky. "Where should I start? The first time I ran into magic? The cult? Becoming Archivist?" He smirks. "How much time do you want to pretend we have?"
Cael Becker	Cael accepts the cup, swirling the liquid, and carefully sniffing at it - from a safe enough distances not to burn her nose from the fumes. She then takes a sip, before letting out an appreciative sound - and all of this before answering Jon's question. She shifts, so that her shoulder presses gently against Jon's looking out over the city as they sit in their warm coats, atop a freezing station. "It's your story," she murmurs quietly. "Tell it the way it's meant to be told, and I'll listen. I'm here for you," she asserts - before taking another puff at the joint. She was. ...wasn't she? Let her have enough strength for this. For Jon.
Jonathan Sims	Jon chuckles, taking his own time to savor the whiskey before sighing and leaning against Cael a little. "Well... did I tell you my parents both died when I was young? My father fell off a ladder, my mother in routine surgery." He sighs heavily. "Mum's siblings both died young, too. There's some evidence that some other being was interfering, trying to ensure me or my cousin became Archivist. And I had my first encounter with magic when I was eight. I think that's why it's... hard for me to explain, sometimes. Even when I was pretending not to believe in magic... I knew it was real." He peers up at the sky again. "There was a..." He pauses. "There was a book," he says finally. "A children's book, about spiders. I... liked spiders, a great deal, and even if the book was a little young for me I liked the pictures. It was all about a spider inviting flies over for dinner." He glances over at Cael. "I knew what it meant. Spiders /eat/ flies. But flies are nasty and annoying and they buzz and bite. Spiders weave beautiful webs that the morning dew clings to like jewels. They killed pests in Granny's garden. Spiders were the good guys." He swallows. "The book was... I don't know how to describe it. I picked it up on a whim, from a box of books Granny had bought at the charity shop, 50 pence each. And then, despite it being rather more meant for children half my age, I... couldn't put it down. It just /fascinated/ me. Before I knew it, I was out of the house and halfway across the city. I didn't look up until this kid, he... he was eighteen, and he did odd jobs for Granny 'round the house, and he... bullied me a lot. Beat me up, called me names." He frowns. "I suppose I /was/ a /deeply/ annoying child, but that's still no excuse." He sighs. "He hit the book out of my hand and made some crack about 'little Einstein' reading kiddie books. But then... he started reading the book. He walked off, and I followed him because I rather wanted my book back. And... the end of the book, you see, it... invites one to knock on Mr. Spider's door, to join him for dinner. There's a door in the book, offering one to rap right there. Knock, knock." He says the last two words slowly, almost like a spell. "The bully, he... got to the end of the book, standing at the door to a house, and he rapped on the door in the book. And the door to the house opened and... a giant spider reached out and pulled him in, screaming, to this... den of webs." He runs a hand through his hair. "That's what it was, I swear. I could almost /see/ the portal, now that I think back on it. Feel the wave of magic. Whatever that book was, it was a portal to another dimension, and... it was meant for me, and that boy went through instead. Saved my life." He sighs. "I was left with secondhand trauma and perfect recall. It is my first clear memory--the sight of that screaming face, being dragged in by this horrifically oversized spider, the terror in my gut as I just... stood there and watched him get dragged away to be eaten alive."
Cael Becker	"Well shit," Cael murmurs quietly as she hears the story. She turns her gaze towards Jon, studying his features for a moment, then looks back down at her whiskey. "Bullies aare the fucking worst - especially adults who mess with kids to feel powerful. Fuck that. But... man. Getting eaten by an evil, magical, interdimensional spider? Fuck." She gives a small shake of her head. "...glad it wasn't you, though. I mean... seriously. We would have never even... Well. I hate to even think of that."
Jonathan Sims	"It should have been me," Jon says quietly. "It was supposed to be me. It was /meant/ for me. All that... pain and suffering and torture, and ultimately death, I suppose. I don't know why... maybe to stop me from being Archivist?" He frowns. "That doesn't... seem right, but... what other explanation is there? That's what everything turns out to be about. The bloody /Archive/." He sighs, and sips his whiskey. "Nobody believed me, of course. The police insisted I /must/ know /something/ I wasn't saying. Some of them thought I was protecting someone else, some of them tried to tell me that if I'd killed him in self-defense no one would blame me. The therapists I went to... they didn't believe me either. I was on anti-psychotics for two years, but it just made everything worse. I started failing classes, I couldn't sleep at night and I slept all day... Granny finally flushed them down the drain and started sending me to Bible study instead." He snorts. "/That/ actually helped. Go figure." He reaches out for the joint and, when she passes it, takes another puff or two. "I /believed/ in God. I really did. I wanted to be a vicar. Help people, serve the community. At least for a little while. Until... well, I've told you how secondary went. More bullies. Sometimes I think England's just bullies and tea and meat pies."
Cael Becker	"It was supposed to be you. You'll never get me to say it should have been you, though," Cael answers quietly. She lets out a sigh before adding, "They really put you through hell, huh? I mean - you know I had the same worries - what people would think when I talked about people getting turned inside out by black tendrils, or having to wash people-dust out of my hair..." She smiles sadly. She remembers how much that memory had hurt her, at the time. ...but so much had happened since then... "The meat pies are nice," she adds - perhaps in an attempt to add a little levity to the serious conversation.
Jonathan Sims	"The meat pies are nice," Jon agrees affably. "As is the tea. The bullies... not so much." He takes another puff from the joint and hands it back over. "I think I told you about the cult? In... broad terms, anyway. I got convinced that I was helping to save the world, creating and summoning an avatar of Sekhmet. That's the business that got Agnes conceived and Martin briefly dead." He shakes his head. "Everyone else died, because I was so damn /gullible/. I had to take a year off to recover from that, and then... life settled down, mostly. Martin was working for SHIELD, I was studying and then practicing psychiatry. Lyra... well, Martin told you about Lyra, yes? The invaders killed her, when Loki attacked New York. I... I failed. I froze. I didn't get her out of the way. I should have... done something." There's a clear theme manifesting. Guilt, and a sense of having dodged a bullet over and over. Is Jon going to his death so willingly because he thinks he should've died long before now? That this is... balancing out the scales, somehow? He'd say no. He's trying to come back, after all. But he might be lying to himself.
Cael Becker	"You blokes across the pond don't have a monopoly on bullies, you know. We have plenty of them here," Cael remarks. She enjoys another puff of the joint, another sip of the whiskey, before resting her head against Jon for a few moments, while she considers his words. "I heard the basics about the cult, yeah. And... Martin told me about Lyra. I felt like it might be good to know, but with everything going on, I was afraid asking might be walking into a minefield. So she'd asked Martin. "I'm sorry she didn't make it through, Jon. That's-" she lets out a heavy sigh. "I felt that way about Alis, you know? That there must have been something I could do. That I'd... that somehow I was responsible for leading her to that end. I guess- I don't know. I would have done anything to save Alis. I bet the same's true for Lyra."
Jonathan Sims	"I was her father." Jon says, staring down the street without seeing. "I was supposed to be getting her to safety. We'd run the drill dozens of times, made the trip to the shelters. Martin insisted. It was my responsibility, to protect her. To keep her safe. And I froze." He sighs. "I've been working on that. Not freezing." He shakes his head. "That almost tore us apart, me and Martin. He blamed me, I blamed myself but I took it out on him..." He sighs. "But we got through, and things were... mostly okay, until I became Archivist." He finishes off his whiskey and pours some more into the conjured glass. "I didn't even know it existed, you know? I knew about magic... I thought I knew less than I did, because I thought what Elias taught me was all wrong, but it turns out to have been real. But that my grandmother was Archivist, that I'm homo magi, part of this magical family going back to the days after the fall of Atlantis...?" He shakes his head. "I thought I'd just be the therapist to superheroes my whole life. And I /liked/ that. I was /good/ at it!" He glowers out at the city. "'Spose I wouldn't have met you if I hadn't become Archivist, though," he muses. "Martin never let me meet anyone from SHIELD."
Cael Becker	"You weren't combat trained back then, love," Cael says quietly, and gently. "Unfortunately... a lot of people died that day. The city was hell. No one's at fault for not being able to handle a war like that." She smiles sadly as she adds, "I wish I could have met her, though, and I hope you'll tell me more about her, someday. Yeah? Me and Agnes both." She's taking her own whiskey slowly, conscious of the fact that they do have a battle coming in a few hours. The last thing she needs is to get totally buzzed right now. "I'm glad you and Martin found your way through your grief. And I'm glad we met," even if this war has been hell. "And you still //are// good at it, even if life is taking you in a new direction. I bet you'll always be good at that therapy stuff. Always be good at helping the people that need it, even if it isn't in a formal setting for now."
Jonathan Sims	"S'not the same," Jon murmurs. The pot's making him... relaxed, a bit, though not enough to fall off the roof. "I like the heroing. I do. I just don't know if I'm... /good/ at it, y'know?" He laughs. "I have a reputation in the psychiatric community, you know. It is... less than stellar. But I never cared, really. Well. A little, maybe, but it didn't... I mean, look, I was /helping/ people. I knew I was. So what if I didn't get published or if I was a laughingstock at conferences? I was helping people, more than those ponces who commanded top dollar to tell rich people their troubles weren't all that bad." He sighs, and shakes his head. "But... that's probably over and done with, now. Dunno if I'm a laughingstock in the hero community or not." He frowns. "I wonder, y'know? I do wonder. But it's easier, I figure... I mean, I'm new at it, who's going to know me? Or care? It's different. It's fine." He frowns. "Where was I? Oh, right. Becoming Archivist."
Cael Becker	"Well. If it makes you feel better, I've never once heard the Avengers talking shit about you," Cael offers with an amused smile, giving Jon a nudge. She grows more serious as she adds, "And I still have your prescription hanging on my wall at the Triskelion. Something I'll always treasure." Careful of the remains of the joint in her hand, she wraps one arm around Jon's middle to give him a brief squeeze confirming. "Yeah. That's what we were talking about."
Jonathan Sims	Jon snorts and rests his head on Cael's for a moment. "Glad you liked it," he says. "Oh, I didn't tell you... Wilson says you don't exist in the other universes he can see. I do, evidently, Sara does... not you." A pause. "Which makes this /clearly/ the best universe, because it has you /and/ Martin in it, so. I'm going to do everything in my power to keep it existing, just for you." He smiles, and leans down to kiss her on the head. Then... the thing he's been avoiding. "So anyway. I woke up one morning from a dream of a horrific trip into the Underworld, to find that I could hear Martin's thoughts. And the neighbors. And half the bloody city, it felt like." He sighs. "And... we got a call that my grandmother had died. So we went to London, to get her things and that was... bad. So, so bad. I could feel /everything/, I could see emotions, I... wound up in the hotel bathroom screaming at Martin to make it stop. I begged him to kill me, just to make it... stop." He closes his eyes.
Cael Becker	Wilson? Sam said- "OH. ... Wade." The momentary confusion was plain on her features, only to be replaced by amusement. "Oh, com'on... He's... off his rocker or something, isn't he? Thought I mean- some of the stuff he knows turns out ot be true, but..." She's unique to this universe? What the hell does that mean? She shakes her head in bafflement - then falls silent as Jon continues his story, concern and pained sympathy showing on her features at his words. "Oh... Jon. I had no idea it could be that bad. What did you do?" she asks, leaning in against him a little more strongly.
Jonathan Sims	"Wade, yes," Jon murmurs. "I don't think he's... well, he's not /sane/, but what he knows is, so far as I can tell, quite real. He says some other version of me ended the world, poor bloke." He sighs, and sips his whiskey. "Martin helped me figure out how to... start blocking things out. Like any other overwhelming stimulus, really. And then when we went to check over Gran's apartment, some cultists attacked. It turns out, though I didn't know it at the time, that my cousin--who should have been Archivist--had made a deal with a demon for power. She sent minions of the demon to kill me. When they attacked... Martin faked dying so he could go undercover and find out who was trying to kill me." There's a haunted expression on his face. Clearly Martin hadn't told /Jon/ he wasn't really dead.
Cael Becker	Maybe she was lucky she'd never really had 'family' - but most families weren't like Jon's. Not from what she'd heard. "...how long were you alone?" she asks Jon with quiet concern and sympathy, rathering than voicing her thoughts. "You must've been a mess. Shit, Jon..."
Jonathan Sims	"About six weeks?" Jon sighs. "I went to Gran's funeral--and /Martin's/ funeral--and then came back to New York and tracked down John Constantine, because that first dream I'd had was about him." He shakes his head. "Except... that turned out to not be him at all, but a demon meat-puppet." He stops, and pulls away from Cael a little. Pulls in on himself. This is the thing he hasn't entirely dealt with, the wound that hasn't healed because it's barely been addressed. "It... flirted with me. Overwhelmed me with affection. I was alone, and scared, and it acted like me showing up was this wonderful thing, that it had missed me... but then as soon as I questioned it, it yelled at me. I met people through it, Phoebe and Lydia and Zatanna... but it acted like I was trying to take them away from it. I was confused and scared, and it isolated me in that weird House of Mystery, refused to really teach me anything about magic while telling me how little I knew. It would run around getting hurt and overworking itself and then refuse to let me help it, tell me I couldn't understand the unique burden it was carrying. It took me out into the field with no training or preparation, then mocked me when I was scared and hurt." He stares at the buildings across the street, unseeing. "The first night I channeled the gods... I wanted to die. And it yelled at me, mocked me, for being tired and scared. Because I was asking Chas for help, because /it/ wasn't getting all the attention." He swallows. "I made an offhand crack about gentrification, because of those stupid bloody buildings it /translocated/ into Hell's Kitchen from Liverpool, and it got so angry that it ruined my birthday party--a thing I had not asked it to throw, hadn't known about, hadn't expected--and then made a big deal about how it had thrown me, an ungrateful wretch, a birthday party." He sighs. "I... had friends, when I hadn't in years, and it drove me away from them. It made me doubt everything I knew about magic, about psychiatry, about myself. Even at the end I still... I left because I thought /I/ was the problem. That the only way to help was to leave, that everything would be better if I were gone. I don't know if I could have, if Martin hadn't turned out to be alive. I might have stayed, just to not be alone, and let it keep... using me as a scapegoat."
Cael Becker	"...that fucking prick," Cael says quietly, turning towards Jon as he pulls away, watching him with her worried gaze. She offers him the last of the join, and sets aside her whiskey for the moment, as she turns over Jon's story in her mind. She reaches out with one hand, placing it on his arm, the gesture leaving her posture open, in case Jon wanted to move back in towards her again. "I'm puzzled," she admits. "What part of this story did you think would make me turn away from you?"
Jonathan Sims	Jon shakes his head. "It... you don't understand. Even now, part of me keeps saying it's /my/ fault. Sure, it was a demon meat-puppet, and not a truly sick man, but..." He frowns. "It's not like it hid what it did. It did a lot of this to me in front of other people. Chas was under mind control, Lydia apologized... Zatanna..." His hands clench into fists. "They all /watched/ while it yelled at me, drove me out, and nobody stood up to defend me." He swallows. "You know what was said, as soon as we found out about the demon? The /first/ thing Zatanna said? That we had to help Phoebe. That was the entire focus--helping Phoebe. And, reasonably so, she's a /child/, but... nobody thought to help Chas. Nobody thought to help Meggan, the fiance he'd dumped out in the cold before he moved on to me. Nobody... nobody thought to help /me/." He puts down his glass on the roof next to him and wraps his arms around his waist, pulling in on himself. "N-nobody... nobody helped me. They just... watched it hurt me, and turned away." He shakes his head again. "I-I mean... Lydia's tried, since. She apologized. S-she's as new to this as I am. B-but... but it's not... people don't... they turn away. They watch, while I get hurt, and they turn away. And I c-can't... it's so hard to t-talk about... Phoebe doesn't even... k-know what it... did to me. It never... not in front of her. She was its special... its golden child, perfect. Not her fault. I don't blame her, I've n-never blamed her... b-but... it... it's..." He shudders. "I got... I got /mind raped/ by a... a thing I can't even talk about, during all of this, and I couldn't turn to anyone for help. And then the... the thing /yelled/ at me about it. Said I was trying t-to... take over. I... I... w-what if it was right? I'm /leading/ the group, now, did I just... drive it out, and take over, and..." He squeezes his eyes shut. "No," he whispers. "It's not /real/. It's not real. It's not. And the real John doesn't bloody /want/ the job."
Cael Becker	Waiting for Jon to come to her is probably not the solution here, she decides, and so Cael attempts to gently draw Jon into her arms, a few tears of her own leaking from her eyes. "It's not real," she confirms in a quiet voice, as soothing as she can manage - when soothing is really not her usual forte. "The abusive fuck was messing with your head, and you seem to know that, so no. It's not real. But the pain is real." She lets out a heavy sigh before adding softly, "I wish I could promise you I'll never pull away from you again, but... I think I've proven how hard that would be for me to keep. I can promise you that it's never once been //your// fault. It's my own fucking damage. I'll try not to do that to you again, though. I'll try to get well - for you. For us. Yeah?"
Jonathan Sims	"It's you," Jon whispers. He lets her pull him in, though he doesn't unwrap himself. "You're... you reacting to /everything/ so strongly. Well, to the things you care about. You pull away because you're hurting, and you're hurting because you care. I realized that, yesterday. That it's not... you're not punishing me. You're just... hurting." He closes his eyes. "Everything else, since, has seemed... I don't know. I've almost died repeatedly, I got kidnapped, but why tell anyone? When I told people I was fated to die so many reacted badly. When people found out I was specially chosen by Gaea they turned away. But of course they do. I'm the Archivist. I'm... broken, and over dramatic, and... a pedantic ass, and... and who could /love/ me? I'm a monster." His voice drops to a whisper. "I'm a monster. I must be. I deserve it. I /must/. If... if it isn't me, then... then these people I care about are... are just... being cruel, and I don't... I can't..." He turns, suddenly, unwraps his arms from around himself and holds Cael to him tightly, burying his face in her hair. "I tortured an angel," he sobs. "I tortured /Saint Michael/. I deserve this, don't I? I... in my... my /hubris/ and my anger, I sullied something p-pure and beautiful and... and... I /deserve/..." He has to stop, choking on the sobs wracking his body.
Cael Becker	"You are definitely a pedantic ass," Cael agrees - but there's fondness in her voice. "But you're no more monster than me. ...idiot." As Jon turns towards her at last, she squeezes him tightly, her torso rocking gently as she tries to soothe the distraught man. "You're no monster... Michael's the one who's been acting like a monster, straight out of a fairy tale," those stories were always so dark and grim. "You do not deserve- what he's-" Her voice catches in her throat, and she's silent for a moment, as she gets her breathing back under control, ignoring the tears blurring her own eyes. "If you deserve to be tortured by 'pure' angel... then so did I. You don't believe that, do you?" she asks. "There's something wrong with him. He's broken. He started all of this - and he brought what happened on himself. You don't deserve any of this Jon... Not any of it."
Jonathan Sims	"I know," Jon whispers. "I know. But how can I swell with pride when one archangel cares for me, believes in me, and totally dismiss the other? He created the universe, Cael. All this that I so love, was shaped by his hand. And breathed into life by Gaea--but how can I recognize Her, and ignore him entirely?" He sniffles, and pulls back, and reaches out with his thumbs to wipe at Cael's cheeks. "If I thought it would help, I would offer to heal the wing. I would apologize. And I will offer both. That will be just, and fair, and right. Vengeance is not justice. Vengeance is just cruelty perpetuated, a cycle of violence. Nobody /deserves/ any of that. Nobody /deserves/ to be tortured." A pause. "But Michael didn't deserve what I did, either. It was a monstrous thing I did, Cael. Maybe it isn't right, or fair, or balanced, for him to hurt me in retaliation. But Lydia was right, the other day. This didn't come out of nowhere. /You/ have worked to atone for the pain you caused. I can only say I have worked to atone for the pain I caused if I truly work to atone for it." He looks down, then. "At least, that's what my rational mind says. I doubt I'll stop believing I deserve what I'm getting until after I've had it."
Cael Becker	"I don't need ot believe it - I //know// it," Cael replies fiercely. "You don't deserve this, you don't - so I can never really accept it," she insists. "It doesn't- I don't have the same terror of it that I used to have, but.... I still..." She sighs in frustration, resting her head against him. "I'd still do anything to take this from you. I hate that I can't."
Jonathan Sims	Jon closes his eyes. "It's going to be this weekend, I think. If Lydia's Seal works, then I'll have no further excuses not to hand myself over, and if it doesn't..." He hesitates a moment. "Can... I ask you to do something for me? Can you /swear/ that you will do it, that you will follow orders, even knowing what it will mean for me?" He pulls away a little, to look down at her.
Cael Becker	There's a wary look in Cael's expression as she studies Jon, pulling away from him in turn just enough to really study his features, without fully letting go of him. "Swear what?" she asks quietly. "Swear that I'll let him have you? That I'll walk away and- and leave you with him?" Tears start streaking down her cheeks, and her grip on Jon tightens instinctively. "I don't have a choice, do I?" she says bitterly.
Jonathan Sims	"That you'll do what I ask," Jon says. "It may be important." He sighs, and looks out over the city. "If Lydia's Seal works as planned, there won't be a need for any of this. But yesterday proved that even a victory can include unexpected consequences. I've been thinking about what to do if the Seal fails for a while now. Not because I don't believe in Lydia, but because it would be foolish /not/ to have a plan." He strokes Cael's back, gently. "If the Seal fails, I'm going to turn myself over to Michael, along with all of the blood of his that we have, and the spear. I need you to move the blood from the Archive to Grand Central--I'll give you the access codes--and make sure you have the spear during the fight. I'm /hoping/ that will be enough to get Michael to retreat from the field. I'm hoping I don't have to promise some other kind of surrender, but I'll see what needs to be done in the moment." He looks back at Cael. "You said you'd walk down there with me. So... bring the blood and the spear. Help me turn them all over, witness whatever negotiations we make, and then go back and report." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a microcasette recorder. "Gather the others, and play this for them. It explains what I'm doing, and what we should do next." He frowns down at her. "Can you do that? Can you have my back on this?"
Cael Becker	Cael lets her gaze drop away from Jon, and she holds her breath to help quell the panic that wants to rice in her chest. She knew this was coming. She'd fought tooth and nail to prevent it - but she'd failed, and she knew it was coming. After another breath in, and out, she offers a small nod of her head. "There's nothing in that I can't do," she confirms. "But I hate it."
Jonathan Sims	"So do I," Jon says, frowning. "I am going to offer to heal him. I am going to apologize. If he still tortures me... then that's on him. But if that's the case, then it's going to happen one way or another. I may as well use it as leverage, if we need to. If he wants me that badly, he can bloody well pay for it." He sighs, and squeezes her close. "But that's /if/ we need to. If not... then maybe I get a little more time. But I can't avoid it forever, and the waiting, it's... it's killing me, Cael. It's all I think about, when I let myself stop and think. That's why I keep so busy, that's why I can't /relax/, because every time I try it's right there hovering at the edge of my awareness. He's going to torture me. He's going to torture me, and there's probably nothing I can do. It's going to be the worst pain I've ever experienced, and... and..." He swallows. "I'm afraid I won't be able to keep my promise to you. I'm afraid it'll break me. That I'll come back different. Not controlled, but... but /different/. I swore to you I wouldn't let him break me, that I'd be myself when I came back, but... I'm so, so afraid I can't hold to that. I'm so scared of what he'll do to me."
Cael Becker	"It's killing me, too," Cael admits in a bare whisper. "I'm... I've been trying to just- to live in the moment. To enjoy the time we have together. To be grateful for- that we can have one another. I've been trying, but the thought of what's coming... haunts me, and part of me just wants it over with which is- God. It's like wishing for him to torture you, and that's- how I do that? But I can't- The fear of it hurts so much." She lifts her hand to rub it acros her eyes, trying desperately to maintain control of her emotions. "I- I've been finding myself after what happened - haven't I? With your help? I'm still me... aren't I? We- we'll find our way. You'll still be you... You will."
Jonathan Sims	Jon swallows. "It... makes sense, really. It's like wanting to just rip off a bandaid, all at once. Get the pain over with, even if that makes it worse. /Lingering/ pain is... horrible. There's no relief, just the relentless drumbeat of terror and pain." He reaches up to cup her face in his hands. "You're still you. Different, changing, but that always happens. But you still burn so, so brightly, even if it's dulled." He smiles. "I'll suffer whatever I must, claw my way back from the dead and cross every river of the underworld, just to get a chance to see you when that pain lifts and your fire becomes undimmed. You'll burn like the sun." He leans down to kiss her, more passionately than he has in a while.
Cael Becker	The kiss is unexpected at first - and for a few moments, Cael remains still and unresponding. It doesn't last, however, and soon she's returning the kiss with her own fervor, one hand reaching up to rest against the back of Jon's neck - holding him to her, gently. Tears still glisten in her eyes as they part, and she murmurs to him softly, "I love you - so we'll get through this somehow. We have to."
Jonathan Sims	"I know you'll be there," Jon whispers in response, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know, however... however scared you are, even if you have to go vomit in the toilet first, you'll come and you'll be there for me. I /know/ that." He sniffles. "So... so go ahead, if you need to. Take a minute to throw up, and freak out, and rage, and /feel/, and then come to me. Okay?" A pause, and then he laughs. "Or wait, and do that later. That works too. Just... I know it's going to be hard. Lean on the people around us, okay? Don't forget to take care of yourself." He sniffles. "And for the love of the gods, make /Martin/ take care of himself. He'll run himself ragged trying to nursemaid me if we let him."
Cael Becker	"I will," Cael promises softly. "I'll- yeah. I'll definitely puke in the toilet a few times," she admits. "And sneak off for a joint, but I'll come back." After another calming breath she adds, "And I'll look after Martin - 'cuz he'll look after me. 'cuz... we're family now." Her voice is barely a whisper at that last declaration, and even as she says - Jon can feel the surge of fear she can't quite qwell.
Jonathan Sims	Jon starts sobbing again, and wraps Cael up in about as tight of a hug as he's ever managed to give her. If they were standing, he might pick her right up off her feet. "You're so brave," he whispers. "How can you say you're not brave? He laughs, softly, even while sobbing. "I love you. We're going to get through this." His own aura is just... calming, and happy. Those are happy tears, despite her fear.
Cael Becker	"I don't feel brave," Cael answers, her voice still soft, even as some of her fear is eased by the fierceness of Jon's hug. She lets herself sink into that warmth - desperately seeking to reassurance and safety it offered her. "I feel scared. I feel... sick." She squeezes him tightly in return, wishing this moment could simply last forever, so they'd never have to face what was coming. "But we'll find our way... together."
Jonathan Sims	"I don't think anyone who's actually brave feels brave," Jon says slowly. "I think anyone who claimed to feel brave is probably either lying to themselves or... very, very unique. Almost everyone I talk to, that we'd call brave, just says they were fucking terrified, in the moment. And when they're not... it's because adrenaline kicked in. But it takes courage, and strength, to overcome fear and act in a manner that isn't just instinctive fight or flight. To walk into a dangerous situation. To run toward the danger, instead of away from it. And I think a lot of people are braver than they know." He rests his chin atop her head and peers out at the city for a moment, then pulls away a little to say, "I think we make a mistake, sometimes, idolizing heroes. How many people of this city have come to us, offered to help? How many are helping each other out in the refugee camps? Ordinary people. Do you know how much money's poured in, how many offers of help we've gotten from people across the world who want to come defend Manhattan?" He laughs. "It's a lot. It's been... a lot. But we can't take everyone." He sighs. "My point is just... Anyone can be brave. Anyone who steps up can be a hero. But I think they usually feel scared, and sick. Captain Rogers, yesterday... he did what I might've done. Tried to talk Caitlin down, distract her. He probably felt terrified back during the war, too; I know Peggy says this reminds her of it." He reaches up to stroke her hair. "We'll get through it, though. They're pulling for us, and we're together. We'll get through it." He swallows. "...Remember to remind me of that, when I come back? That we'll get through this."
Cael Becker	"There's Amit," Cael points out in a wry tone. "Kid's a fuckin' pain in my ass," she adds fondly. "But he means well. And... well. He gets a lot of the grunt work done." When he could very easily have been evacuated with all the rest. She starts to pull away from Jon, turning so she can rest beside him instead, her head on his shoulder - her posture slowly relaxing, much of the tension beginning to ease out of her form. "Just like you, and Sara, and Wade were there for me," she remarks. "I'll remind you. You're not alone. We're together. If I could start to heal - so can you. " Taking a deep breath in, she lets it out slowly before she adds, "I didn't expect Caitlin to come between us - to intervene for Sara like that..."
Jonathan Sims	"He's a good kid," Jon agrees. "And he puts up with a lot. I think I'll put in a letter of recommendation with whatever university he's trying to get into, when this is all over." There's no doubt in his mind that the kid is trying to get into university; Indian-American families tend to prize education, after all. "As for Caitlin? It... doesn't surprise me. I saw a video she sent the Titans; she called that sonic blast that made your ears bleed 'non-lethal sonic deterrent.'" He smirks. "It still hurt you, of course--but she's actively trying /not/ to kill people, I think. That's why I told her what I did. That they've been killing people right and left. Because that's the kind of information she needs, to see what Michael's really doing. And I really think she would've helped Sara regardless of if we've retreated; she knows as well as I do that you don't predicate humanitarian intervention on that sort of thing, not /ethically/." He sighs. "I wish... /some/ people could trust that I'm not griping at her for no reason, but... well. Everyone thinks they know best, right?"
Cael Becker	"I remember," Cael says dryly. "That pissed me the fuck off. 'Non-lethal-' fuck, she's going to get an earful from me about that shit one of these days." She takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly before she adds, "But I //suppose// I can tolerate wandering around Duat with her. For your sake - but you're going to fuckin' owe me, Sims. Specifically - those Thai curry noodles you promised me. Hrm? I'm holding you to that shit, don't think I'm going to let you forget."
Jonathan Sims	Jon laughs. "Alright, love. Curry noodles. I will learn to make Thai curry. Or, ohh, I saw a recipe for curry mee in the Times a few weeks back... it's a coconut curry soup with chicken, like chicken noodle soup, but Malaysian. It sounds delicious." Of course he reads the Times. Of course he gets /recipes/ from the Times. At least he's millenial enough to do both on his phone. He sighs and leans down to kiss the top of Cael's head, and then picks up his glass to finish off the whiskey. Then he kind of... blows on it, and it disappears in a puff of ectoplasm and smoke. He's showing off. He grins at Cael and says, "Are you done? We really ought to head back down. There's preparations to make for Isham Park, and I want to wish Lydia and the others luck before they go get set up out there."
Cael Becker	"I'm done," Cael agrees, after picking up her glass of whiskey to drain the last of it. She offers the glass over to Jon, though she seems loathe to move from her position tucked against him. She remains there a few moments longer in a comfortable silence before she adds, "You're not a monster, Jon. Honestly, I don't think you've done a monsterous thing in your life. I don't think you could. And I don't think anything you could do would make me turn from you. I love you, and that's all there is to it. Yeah?"
Jonathan Sims	"I consort with vampires and people who share their bodies with demons. I perform magic and I'm married to a man, and I'm not quite certain what gender even is." Jon sighs. "There are those who absolutely would consider me a monster. I've been called far, far worse." He frowns at the glass, turning it to watch the way the lights of the city play through the crystalline structure like a prism. "But those people are wrong. I keep reminding myself of that. Those people are wrong. I've made mistakes... some pretty awful ones. Maybe if you say it often enough, I'll believe they weren't monstrous." He glances to Cael and smiles, then tosses the glass up into the air. He blows out, and well before it hits the roof this glass disappears in a puff, too. "I love magic," he says with a happy sigh. "It's just... /brilliant/."
Cael Becker	"Those people aren't just wrong, they're full of shit," Cael insists. "You're not monsterous. You've never done anything monsterous. And I... don't doom the people I love." No, she doesn't really believe that yet - but she's trying. She's clearly trying - and hoping she didn't just doom Martin. "And you're a fucking show-off Jonathan Sims. Isn't pride a sin? Hmm?" she asks teasingly - before giving Jon another smile - and then another kiss. "I love you - and we're getting through this together."