Shotgun Heart to Heart [Nix!]

[nephero]

Grief made people do funny things. It was a lesson Izzy had learned time and time again, with increasingly bizarre results. There was no predicting what a person would do when they lost everything, because there was no telling what else a person had left. She hadn't been any different, but she had had her brother to mourn with, and that had made it so much easier to bear.

Jon... Jon didn't have that. And god, but Izzy wished that he had. Someone, something to help him weather this storm instead of floundering alone to drown. Because here he was, drowning, kept operational but for the sheer virtue of having someone else beat his heart and fill his lungs.

Her chest constricted, her heart shuddered, and Izzy's vision swam. The tears fell in fat drops, but she found she hadn't the ability to sob. All she could do was inch closer, and pull Jon tight to her chest, resting one side of her face against his unruly hair. Still she kept breathing, in and out, pulling Jon with her steady breaths even as he finally lost consciousness. One hand slid up to pet at his hair, the silence only broken once, between wet sniffles.

"Me too, Jon. I hope he's safe, too."

[Nix]

Jon relaxed into Izzy's arms and slept for a few hours. He knew it wasn't Chance holding him, but in his dreams it was.

He woke up coughing and sputtering and really feeling like he was going to vomit. He spotted a small trash bin next to her bed and at least managed to make it into that. He still felt terrible but he was still alive. Though his dream was very upsetting.

Jon dreamed that Temple was mad at him for not loving him anymore, so he took Chance from him. It was a ridiculous dream but it was also terrifying. He hugged the trash can to his gut and looked over at Izzy pathetically. "What time is it?" He muttered, throat hoarse and strained. His skin was clammy and he looked like death warmed over. His heart ached for Chance.

"He's ok right?" He whispered more to himself than her. Did she even sleep? Oh god...

He hunched over the garbage can again.

[nephero]

Izzy pulled herself out of her watchful position with more than a few share of creaks, her joints frozen in place and unwilling to shift otherwise. She swallowed thickly, tired eyes sliding to one endtable on the side of her bed, and the digital red display of an alarm clock there.

"Oh-five-thirty." She rumbled, her voice low and raw and... painfully Chancey, which she seemed to realize quickly enough as she cleared her throat immediately. She was too tired to even flinch at the sounds of Jon being sick, too relieved that he was self-ambulatory to manage such a feat, and so utterly tapped that she wasn't even sure she would be able to do much about it if she had minded. It had been a long time since she had gone that long exerting herself; nearly twelve hours was a long time to maintain kinesis of any sort, and the mental toll was rapidly becoming apparent.

Still, she had work to do, and she slid off the bed, shuffling out to her kitchen. It took her three tries to figure out how her own coffee maker worked, and she set that to drip while she found something far more substantial for Jon. Let's see... vomiting... poisoning... dehydration. Slayeraid.

She pulled a neon yellow bottle from her fridge, and it took several moments and the usage of a dish towel for her to crack the bottle open, the Pilot Noble shuffling back to the bedroom and holding the bottle out to Jon.

"Tiny sips," she said, clearing her throat again when the sleepless rasp would not immediately shake from her voice. "He's probably sleeping it off... they should've gotten back some time late last night."

She had no idea, of course, but it was easily the kinder option. She was just so tired, but there was still the looming threat of Jon's summons to worry about. Shit. When was that again? 0800?

Jon looked like he could barely stand. How was she going to get him presentable in-- Izzy looked at the clock once more, and grimaced at how long it had taken her to get some fucking coffee going-- an hour and a half?

"Come on. Strip. I'll get your uniform presentable. You need to shower." She could only manage short bursts of commands, gently taking Jon's arm to help him into the bathroom. At least he'd be able to be sick to his heart's content in there without much worry of a mess.

[Nix]

5:30

He had no idea Izzy's voice could sound like that. His heart throbbed at the sound of it.

Shit. He barely felt like he was alive, could barely move, and his stomach kept retching. He didn't care about all of that though. He was just worried about Chance. He spit into the trash can and wiped his mouth. He wasn't sure where Izzy went. The room felt sort of spinny and he was having a hard time focusing on anything, at least he was breathing and his organs were functioning.

His eyes closed. Chance... please be ok. I am so sorry. Please be ok.

Jon picked his head back up and looked around for his phone, staring at the screen, at his last messages to Chance. About the date. Their first, last, and only date. It should have been great. They should have enjoyed their curry. They should have said cute, stupid, dumb, blush worthy things to each other. They should have held hands across the table... and talked for real. About how they felt, about what their relationship was exactly. The conversation Jon kept putting off because he was afraid of it all crumbling down- and it did. Because he was stupid. Because Iriel was stupid. And because Chance deserved better than getting caught in a shit storm of stupidity.

He stared at his phone and typed a message without really thinking it through.

---Message from Jon to Chance---

Jon: I am so sorry. I furcked up. I didnt want to hurt you i just wanted to portect yu from my shit. I love you. Pkease be sahfe. Please be ok. I love yuo so much.

He should have died last night. Alone in his apartment. They would have found him after he didn't show up at the Inquiry office. They would have assumed he killed himself because he was a traitorous coward. It wouldn't have mattered, because Chance and Izzy wouldn't have been involved further.

He had no idea an hour had gone by since Izzy left, he had put the bucket on the floor and laid back down, closing his eyes as his tears stained Izzy's pillow. When she returned he sat back up and took the bottle, taking slow small sips as instructed and muttering a soft 'thank you'. When he couldn't drink any more he started to peel off his clothing for Izzy. His uniform stuck to him, sweaty and almost sticky feeling. He took off the boxers he'd been wearing too. The ones Chance lent him.

Leaving his phone on her bed, Jon slowly but surely he made his way to the bathroom, feeling like a zombie and almost as disgusting. For a moment he thought of the movie about the zombie out break on the train. About burritos. The water felt warm on his skin, and he had to lean against the wall to steady himself as he washed away the sweat and sick from his body.

He should be dead right now.

He still might be.

How was he going to deal with the Inquiry? Should he just come clean about the pills? Trying to lie to an Inquiry officer- especially Pilot Noble Matthers, would be ill advised. This was not his first Inquiry consultation. Being a foreign born Pilot, being a Seeker, these were not entirely uncommon. Sometimes they were simply debriefings. He knew this one wasn't. It wouldn't be with Simone if it were. Lufti met with Simone a lot due to his circumstances, but she always sort of scared Jon.

He finished up in the shower, taking about twice as long as normal, his skin pruning from taking so long. He stepped out carefully, towel around his waist, looking for Izzy like a lost helpless kitten.

[nephero]

Izzy took the uniform bit by bit, hesitating only when Jon handed over the boxers that were clearly not his own. Not unless he and her brother tended to shop in the same place and happened to get the same compass-rose laden shorts as one another. She let out a soft breath, and gathered up all the bits of clothing without a word, taking the lot of them to her kitchen sink for a very rapid wash.

It would definitely need proper cleaning later, but her goal was to get him past inspection, not win any hygeine awards. And so she scrubbed, hard, trying not to think of just how badly this could have gone. What if she hadn't messaged Jon? What if she hadn't demanded he come see her? What if she had gone on mission instead of Chance, and simply hadn't been around?

Not for the first time, she was haunted by the thought of Jon lying in his apartments, alone and asphyxiated, left there in rotten silence until Inquiry finally kicked his door down. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back, sniffing hard as she tried to simply not think about it. What mattered now, what really mattered now, was that Jon was alive. He was still breathing, and there was still hope.

Hope for what, she wasn't even sure. But hope for something was a far sight better than hope for nothing.

Having gotten the worst of everything out of Jon's uniform, she let the sink drain while she poured herself a cup of coffee. She needed to focus, just a bit longer, just enough to tap into her psionics one final time. At least this was far less complicated; she wasn't maintaining the entire circulatory and respiratory system of another human being. She was just getting water out of cloth so he wouldn't be sopping wet wearing it. She ran her hands over each piece, pulling hard to remove the moisture in floating balls, sending those down into the sink before repeating the process over and over.

Once they were sufficiently dry, she brought everything back into her bedroom, and set to ironing the pieces, sighing with some bit of relief that everything looked to be in proper order. Unless they looked at it with a microscope, anyway. But it wasn't exactly Jon's uniform that was on trial here.

Oh, god. Her heart shuddered at the thought of a trial, and she had to quickly force the fear out of her head. No. No, it wouldn't come to that. It would be fine. It had to be. She looked up when she heard the bathroom door open, and she tried her best to smile for Jon, though the expression just came out wan, worn out and faded like an overused dish rag.

"Just in time. I think I've gotten everything I can." She handed Jon his underwear first, letting him handle that much before moving in to assist him in pulling everything else together. It was a bit like fussing over a kid on their first day of school, though the circumstances here were far more dire, and finally Izzy stood back to look Jon in the eyes.

"No matter what happens," she said, finally, her hands settling on Jon's shoulders and giving them a squeeze, "we'll get through it together. Come back here when you're... when you're done, okay?"

[Nix]

Jon took the boxers and looked at them for a moment before letting his towel drop and putting them on before getting properly dressed, letting Izzy help him and fuss over him. He couldn't even recall his mother ever doing something like this. Then again, the Kiers twins were more to him family than his actual family had ever been. And what did he do? He fucked that up too.

What was he going to say? How was he going to fix this? What would happen? As long as he could protect Ailill and keep others from ending up in his mess... that was the important part. Even if he was- no matter what happened to him. He loved Aedolis. He loved being a Pilot. Not because of power, money or status, but because it meant he could protect the place he had chosen to call home. Because as a Pilot- as a Seeker, he was useful. It didn't matter if he was rank locked. He never expected to even reach Echo like Lufti had.

Lufti. The other Chance he was fucking over with all this. His partner who already got called in for consultation regularly. He didn't deserve this either. He had told Jon not to do anything reckless or stupid. Lufti was a hard ass and too serious for Jon's tastes but they worked well together, maybe they weren't friends but-

His heart ached as he thought about all the people who might get caught up in his mess. Might be questioned if they knew anything about what Jon had been doing. Might get in trouble for not noticing.

What was he going to do? What could he do?

Jon looked up at Izzy as she squeezed his shoulders. His eyes were bloodshot and looked close to tears again but he held them back, hugging Izzy as tight as he could manage at the moment. "I don't know what to do Iz."

[nephero]

"Just be honest." Izzy said, softly, looking into those bloodshot eyes and feeling her heart break a thousand times over. "And after your summons, we'll figure the rest out. One step at a time. You, and me, and after we sort the first few things out, then Chance."

She sighed, before forcing her mouth upwards in an attempt at an assuring smile. Jon needed something to lean on, more than anything, even if that something was flimsy hope. It wouldn't be nearly as easy as she was making it sound, of course. Not even close. But she still had to believe that it would be possible. Difficult, but possible.

Jon would go in, would get... whatever punishment he would get, which Izzy had to believe wouldn't be too severe. Jon had messed up, and badly, but it wasn't anything seditious or malicious or anything... it had just been stupid, and self-destructive, rooted entirely in emotional turmoil that had absolutely no outlet otherwise. Jon was still a good Pilot, and a good man, a great citizen with genuine honest-to-the-gods love for his adoptive home. That had to count for something.

"Did you want me to escort you there?" she offered, finally. She could always pretend it was because she had needed something from her office anyway, or something equally to that effect.

[Nix]

"You're right. It's going to be ok right? And Chance.." Jon took a deep shaky breath and nodded, unable to finish the sentence any other way. Afraid of what he had been about to say and more afraid that it wasn't true. "Thank you Izzy." He couldn't say that enough.

He gathered up any odds and ends he left strewn about, made sure he had his phone, and headed for the door when he heard her offer. Most of him wanted to jump at it. He still felt like shit and probably looked like it too, but he had to be strong. He was still a Pilot after all.

"I'm ok. Thank you. I will see you when I'm finished. Thank you again." He said forcing a smile for her but it hurt to do so with a broken heart. "Please rest now. I'm so sorry."

[nephero]

"Yeah, everything will be okay, and we'll all be eating those awful burritos you lot are so fond of--" she made a face, though mostly out of jest, letting her features smooth into something softer and more comforting shortly after. Because she had to believe it would be okay. Even if Chance usually checked in immediately after a mission, and even if they should have returned by now. It had to be okay.

She watched as Jon gathered up his belongings, helped him here and there to make absolutely sure they hadn't mutually forgotten anything in the course of being utterly sleep deprived and/or suffering from the last remnants of poisoning. Hiding a yawn behind a fist, she nodded, and walked Jon to the front door. It was probably best he left on his own, all things considered. It would still take her time to get ready for her own day, and that would just make him late if he had to linger any longer. Which did no one any kinds of favors.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I'll see you later." She said, already dreaming of the coffee that was brewing. It wasn't her first all-nighter, but damn if she wasn't just getting too old for this. She took a breath, thanking whatever gods were listening for that much, and proceeded to scramble to put herself together enough to look something like a Pilot Noble should.

At least the crisis for the day was over.