Remnants of the Earth
AEDOLIS => Haviah => The Citadel => Topic started by: nephero on May 25, 2017, 01:07:05 pm
-
---Message from Isabel Kiers to Omajon Rheeves--
Izzy: We need to talk.
Izzy: Now.
Izzy: I'm in my office and I genuinely do not recommend making me wait.
Izzy set her phone back down onto her desk, drew in a deep breath through her nose, and let it all out in a long, low whoosh. Just keep breathing. The key to everything was to keep breathing. In on one, two, three, four, out on one, two, three, four.
Fuck, this was not working.
Izzy clenched her fists tight before relaxing them again, hoping that the bit of motion would somehow alleviate the red shaking fury that was marching through her veins like the entire standing army of Aedolis. It took quite a bit to make Izzy lose her cool like this; she had always prided herself on being able to maintain control-- the only one who regularly had a talent for getting under her skin was her twin brother, and at least that was more in a teasing manner than anything else.
But this... Izzy looked at her phone screen, and took another breath. She had had her misgivings, of course. But Chance had been so utterly smitten and UTTERLY unwilling to listen to any sort of reason, and it had all seemed to work out so Izzy had just let it go. It was actually genuinely heartwarming, knowing that her brother had finally seemed to find someone who "got" him.
Or so she had thought.
Izzy felt another searing wave of white hot rage shoot through her like a bullet, and went back to her breathing exercises. It was likely that she'd need to go down to the ATC to burn some of this off; or maybe just turn herself into the authorities for the grotesque murder of a fellow Pilot. The messy grotesque murder of a fellow Pilot. Miles and miles and miles of messy murder.
-
The rapid succession of these events was really troubling.
First he took the rest of the pills he had gotten from Ailill- about twelve give or take, then he crawled into bed, hoping to cry himself to sleep hugging the sweatpants Chance had left him- and hopefully never wake up.
But instead a message from the Inquiry pulled him from the welcoming arms of slumber.
The messages from Izzy came in just as he answered Pilot Noble Matthers' message about his 'consultation'. He had expected that, but not the texts from Izzy.
He knew he hurt Chance and that would not sit well with Izzy but, didn't Chance tell her why? He wanted to message her back saying he thought it was unwise to meet given the fact he had an appointment with the Inquiry in the morning but saying such a thing would bring suspicion upon their meeting. Besides she was his superior officer, regardless of the fact that she was from a different department. He didn't need dissent to be listed against him tomorrow. Still... he didn't know how long the pills would take or what they would do. He didn't really think they'd kill him... he just kinda hoped they would.
If he had been thinking clearly he wouldn't have done something so stupid. But he wasn't. He was hurting for himself and for Chance and it was killing him. Jon wiped away tears that streaked down his cheeks and tried to treat this all like he would if it had just been an emotionally powerful vision. But it wasn't. He needed to suck it up.
Jon: Understood. I will be there in 10.
He shot back sitting up and putting his hands over his face, breathing deeply. Just get through this.
-
Izzy's phone buzzed, a quick staccato rhythm against the surface of her desk. She glanced to the side, her eyes narrowing for the barest instant as she caught the name indicated on the screen before it went blank again.
Sighing, she pulled the phone closer to herself and opened up the messaging system, glancing over Jon's reply. It was short, and bordering on formal, which was remarkably out of character for their usual interactions. Then again, this was absolutely not the usual sort of interaction. There was no question as to what this was about--
--her brother was crying, actually openly crying, his face a crimson mess of tears and what Izzy hoped to god wasn't snot because gross, and it was all she could do to get him to stumble over to her couch and collapse onto it--
Izzy felt her pulse tick upwards a notch, but quickly tamped down the resurgence of bloodthirst. No. No, she would wait. She would be patient. She had barely gotten any kind of response out of Chance that whole night, and then by the time he stopped being hysterical, he had to report for a mission into the Wastes. It had been all kinds of shit timing, but everything from what Izzy could gather was thus:
- Jon had taken Chance out on a date to a vibrantly populated restaurant
- Jon had then proceeded to publicly dump the fuck out of Chance, again, within said restaurant
- Jon had cited irreconcilable differences, which might have been perfectly fair, except that Chance was extraordinarily convinced that it had been a career-saving move
- Which implied-- and here was where Izzy started to lose her twin again, and thus had her misgivings about the truth behind said implications-- that maybe the whole thing had been a career move in the first place; that the Pilot Cardinal had went along with Chance's affections for some ulterior purpose, that this was Liadain all over again--
Which... even mad as she was, that just seemed utterly ridiculous. There was nothing to be gained from anything of the sort, not for Jon, who had the misfortune of being born outside of Aedolian borders. More to the point was that... well, shit. Izzy was still having a hard time believing Jon would ever be capable of such a thing.
Chance had been utterly hysterical though, and so all she could do at that particular moment was try and comfort him, give him the assurance that this was not at all a reflection on him, that of course he was lovable, that this was just one more bump in the road and that he'd see, years down the line everything would be okay and he'd be romping around with someone who adored him to hell and back.
It hadn't done much, but it had done enough. Chance had eventually calmed down, but it wasn't at all the same Chance that Izzy had known all her life. He seemed... limp. Like a worn out ragdoll that some dog had taken a shine to and shaken until there was no stuffing left. Izzy had almost suggested that they send one of the other Harpies in his stead for the mission, but Chance had put his foot down.
'I can't stay here,' he had said, and Izzy had sighed but understood. Holding still was never their forte, least of all in times of emotional turmoil. He needed something to get his mind off of Jon, if only for a minute, and there was no better cure than gallivating off into the festering Wastes. So she had said her goodbyes and good lucks, watched him mount up with Pilot Royal Lockhart, and take off into the wide open skies.
Which had left her with very little else to do but stew in her own thoughts, which just got uglier the longer she let them ferment. Hence the summons-- at the very least she could give Jon the benefit of letting him explain himself before she tore him a new asshole.
She glanced at the clock. Three minutes. God, but she needed a drink. She rose from her desk, crossed to the side where she kept a few glasses for just such an occasion, and poured herself a several fingers of whiskey.
-
It ended up taking Jon twelve minutes. He had no energy in him, every step felt labored, like the life had been sucked out of him. Which was fair. It had.
He pressed the com outside of the room and waited for Izzy to answer. Trying to will his eyes not to be red. Trying to pull himself together. It was hard. How did this hurt worse than Temple-
Because he was really in love Chance. He felt stupid and horrible for ever trying to compare the two or rationalize any of this pain because it was so fucked up in the first place. He had loved Temple, but he was in love with Chance.
And he gave that up.
He stood there wondering how much angrier the Pilot Noble would be at him for being late, but it wasn't as if any punishment or pain could hurt worse than this. He wasn't even worried about his consultation tomorrow. His only concern was keeping Chance out of it.
-
Izzy looked up from her glass at the sound of her door's coms buzzing, signalling that her visitor had finally arrived. She sighed, took another swig of whiskey, before putting the glass a good distance from herself. Better to keep as much a level head as she could, at least for the moment.
"Come in," she said, well aware how clipped her voice was. It had been a stressful day, and looked like it would continue being stressful. But at the very least she might be able to walk away from this with some decent answers.
Izzy had been about to make some harsh remark about the time, but then she looked up and actually saw Jon-- and the words died in her throat. The Pilot Cardinal looked like walking death; somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if he'd gotten into three-week old green bean casserole again, before summarily shaking that nonsensical thought away.
But genuinely, genuinely, Jon looked like hell. Izzy could tell that he had tried to make himself presentable-- 'tried' being the operative term, though a more accurate term would have been 'utterly failed.' His eyes were lined in red, glassy with forced-back tears, and there was absolutely none of the vibrance that Izzy had come to expect when it came to Pilot Rheeves.
Already missing her whiskey, Izzy gestured to the seat in front of her desk.
"Have a seat."
-
Jon swallowed lightly and sat down in the seat across the desk from Izzy, trying to stay professional and strong like any Pilot should. "You wanted to see me Pilot Noble Kiers?" If he referred to he as anything else he was going to break down. He couldn't seem to actually look at her either, she looked too much like Chance.
"Please excuse my lateness."
At least the numbness was starting to kick in already. Or maybe it was just his own emotional state, but he was picking up nothing from Izzy, and he didn't have the wear with all to begin to analyze that.
-
"Yes," Izzy said, her tone quieter than she had expected it to be. It felt like the wrong volume would crack Jon clean in two-- like he was made of some delicate glassware versus flesh and blood. Izzy cleared her throat, and fought to focus on the task at hand. She had questions that needed answering, after all.
"I think we both are well aware what this is about, so I'll cut to the chase. I just want to know what happened at dinner the other day, and why it happened. And please, Jon," Izzy emphasized the Pilot Cardinal's name, his name and not his title and surname, but the nickname he was best known by his friends. "I just want to know the truth. Chance... he wasn't exactly making much sense before he left for the Wastes."
Which was more or less true. Chance had been 'fine' when he had actually left, but by that point the Pilot Echo hadn't wanted to talk about Jon or curry or anything to do with anything that had happened the other night. And prior to that, well.
Izzy remembered how badly he had cried, how he had curled into himself and gripped his hair and sobbed until there was no air left in his lungs.
Her heart gave a harsh pang, and she fought the urge to reach for her glass.
"Though, if I'm being perfectly honest, you could have picked a better spot than a packed restaurant during the dinner rush," she commented, her tone coming out far drier and more bitter than she might have intended.
-
Jon knew, of course, why he was here and what Izzy wanted to talk about. Chance. The break up. They hadn't even really told anyone they were together, they had barely talked about what they were and Jon had dropped that bombshell and destroyed it all. To protect Chance.
The Pilot Cardinal had been about to open his mouth to explain when something hit him like an arrow through his already dying heart. Chance was out in the Wastes?
Fresh panic filled him and it felt hard to breathe. The Wastes. Why? Why was he out there? Dread dried this mouth till it felt like ash and not even swallowing helped. He looked at Izzy like she had answers for the questions he didn't even realize he hadn't asked. Like, why? Why was he out there?
No. Jon didn't like this. He didn't want this, he could tolerate losing Chance. But he could not lose Chance.
"...I."
There was no coherent sentences, he couldn't even answer Izzy. His mind was filled with flash backs of the last time he saw Temple. Of never telling Temple how he felt. Of Temple never coming back. He could not bare for the same to happen with Chance. He could not have those lies be the last thing he said to him. It may have been for Chance's own good but it was also the biggest mistake Jon had ever made. The tears poured down his cheeks, he couldn't stop them.
"He... he's coming back.... right?"
-
He's coming back, right?
Izzy felt some unpleasant sensation shudder through her chest. The truth of the matter was, even for the most basic of missions, she could never guarantee one of her own returning. The Harpies were tapped for a specific purpose, after all, and that purpose was with the assumption that there was the possibility of danger.
She had every confidence in her brother's abilities, but... she had also had every confidence in her father's abilities. Sometimes life just didn't work out the way you wanted it to, and sometimes all the training in the world wasn't enough to make up for sheer bad luck--
Pilot Noble Kiers was startled out of her increasingly morbid thoughts, however, by the sight of fresh tears rolling down Jon's face. Her brows knitted tight, forming a solid wrinkle on her forehead. This... was not the behavior of a man who dated and dumped for status. This was the behavior of someone who was genuinely, actively terrified that someone they loved would never come home. Izzy had seen it before; years and years and years ago, before the cease fire, when hostilities had been swift and brutal and she was the one who had to look widows and orphans in the eye and tell them how sorry she was.
She swallowed. Rose to her feet. Poured a second glass of whiskey and refilled her own. Gulped the contents down and refilled it again, returning to the desk and pushing one glass across the surface towards Jon.
"...Of course he's coming back. It's a standard op. I can't discuss it further but... it's nothing he can't handle." She said, quietly, as if afraid saying it louder would expose it for the lie it was. She hoped it wasn't a lie. She had to believe it wasn't a lie.
"Jon," she said, after a long pause, "Why?"
She knew she didn't have to explain what she meant. It just didn't make any sense, none of it, and they both knew it. All Izzy wanted now was the truth, and maybe they could figure something out together, something to repair all the hurt when Chance came home. Something to get the smiles back on both of their faces-- Izzy hadn't realized how much she would miss seeing them.
-
Jon took the glass of whiskey and downed it, muttering a pathetic thanks before hand and not thinking. Not thinking of how he had already taken a handful of pills and definitely did not need to be chasing them with hard liquor. His hand was shaking as he held the now empty glass like it was his only life line and stared down into its bottom.
Jon wiped his tears on the back of his arm and tried to compose himself. He couldn't find words. His mind was reeling- thoughts going a mile a minute. He pulled out his phone and pulled up the message from Pilot Noble Matthers and placed the device on her desk.
"...I. I had to Izzy... I can't let him... I can't let him get dragged down by my mistakes." His voice cracked as a new wave of tears wracked his entire body. "He deserves better than me. I'm not a traitor... but... I've made mistakes.. I can't... I love him too much... I can't fucking destroy his career over this Iz..." He wiped his eyes with one hand again, gripping the glass tight. "I had to... and people had to see... they had to know it was just some," He swallowed hard trying to get moisture back into his mouth, trying to make the words come out. "fling between us. I had to."
It was not a fling. Chance was so much more. So much better than that. Jon knew he would never love again. This whirlwind week long romance was the highlight of Jon's life. And he would give it up if it meant keeping Chance safe. At least he had finally known what real love was. And Chance would be ok-
Chance was ok out there. He had to be ok. He was capable. He was strong. They didn't send people out there alone ever since-
"...who did they deploy him with?" His voice was meek and he sniffled a bit, running his freehand through his hair and gripping it tight in worry.
-
Just seeing the name MATTHERS was enough to have the bottom of Izzy's stomach drop out. There were many reasons to fear the attention of Inquiry, and Pilot Noble Matthers was a reason unto herself. Izzy stared at the phone like it was some kind of venomous serpent, before turning wide eyes onto Jon himself. Suddenly, it all made sense-- the suddenness of their separation, the nigh cruelty of it, and how absolutely devastated Jon had looked when he had first walked into her office.
'One day, you'll have someone who'll adore you to hell and back,' her own words echoed in her head, and she rubbed at her mouth. Why was it that she was always right in the ways she never expected? Between that damn shoulder chicken (who she had sworn she would never babysit and yet the ruddy little beast was currently clucking away in her apartments at that very moment), and now this?
She moved around the desk, and kneeled down beside Jon's chair, gently taking his empty glass from shaking fingers and setting it to the side. This was all an utter and entire mess; she understood where Jon was coming from, but the other side of it had been so utterly broken that she simply could not justify it. Chance had never been an ambitious sort of man, that much she knew; it was the reason why he was still Echo at nearly thirty, and would likely remain the same when he approached fifty. Down with the recruits in active duty was where he excelled, and so to have the love of his life pulled from him for the sake of saving a career he genuinely had no intention in advancing--
It was like some awful tragedy written by a sadistic playwright, and Izzy's heart broke for the pair of them. She wondered if Jon even knew the depths of the cruel irony that had wrapped its nasty little claws around them. She hoped not. Jon was such a sweet soul, and it would be nothing short of devastating for him to know the whole breadth of it.
"He's with Pilot Lockhart, he--" she paused as her fingers brushed Jon's own, and her brows came together in a tight knot. Izzy reached forward, and took Jon's hand into both of her own, feeling the cool clamminess there and something else entirely underneath. Something beyond nerves and whiskey.
"Jon, what did you do?" she whispered, turning wide eyes up to meet Jon's own tear-filled ones. Because beneath the skin and the muscle and the bone and the sinew, there was something in the Pilot Cardinal's blood that she knew did not belong there without a very good reason-- and certainly not in the quantities that she was reading.
-
Banning. Ok. Banning was smart. And Chance wasn't alone. He'd be fine. He'd be ok. Jon looked at Izzy as she knelt there holding his hand and trying to comfort him some even though she was probably still mad at him too. He just wanted to see Chance again, even though he lost that right.
When she asked him what he had done he pulled his hand away and looked down at his hands in his lap. He had forgotten how talented of a hemokinetic she was. "..I fucked up Izzy... I fucked up bad. I'm going to get in so much trouble... I can't drag you two down with me... I can't." He said running his hands over his face and then keeping them over his eyes.
He had to protect everyone. But he couldn't just Not answer either. He took a deep breath and let it out in a labored exhale. "...I've been- stealing medication. Antidepressants. I've been taking them for a while now without the consent or knowledge of my superiors... I finished what I had left of them tonight." He admitted, hands sliding up to grip at his hair again.
-
This whole day was just an utter fucking mess. She had gone into this wanting to scream herself hoarse at the man who had dared break her brother's heart, and yet here she was on her knees and genuinely feeling terrified for Jon.
Izzy wracked her brain, trying to figure out some kind of solution, something that would undo this snarling tangled mess that they'd managed to get themselves into-- and more urgently, the fact that Jon had downed an exorbitant amount of pills and oh, gods, she had given him whiskey--
There was no two ways about it; Chance was heartbroken, certainly, but he would never, ever fucking forgive her for letting Jon O.D. in her damn office!
...Where could they even go, though? The pills had been illegal to start with, and now this clear sign of mental instability--
Shit, shit, shit.
"Jon, we need to get you to medical," she said as gently as she dared, already gripping onto the Pilot Cardinal's upper arm and attempting to get him onto his feet. She'd carry him if need be, but the more she could keep him moving and talking the better. "It's going to be okay, all right? We'll fix this, and it'll be okay, Chance'll be back and you two can resume your terrible habits of consuming only burritos for the rest of your lives."
-
His whole body felt drained of energy he didn't want to move but he also felt like he couldn't. He arms and legs, all of it felt so heavy. Like when he first came to Aedolis and had to get used to the more intense gravity, but worse.
Izzy pulled him to his feet and he almost collapsed unable to steady himself, though eventually he did start moving with her help. He wasn't sure if this was the weight of two broken hearts of the pills and alcohol- probably all of the above. Jon shook his head slightly. "No. Izzy I can't. I can't go to medical, they will report this. I just need to go sleep it off. I'm fine." He felt so tired and like there was literally nothing to him.
-
It was entirely a lose-lose situation. If they went and got Jon the help he obviously and desperately needed, then the best case scenario was a psych evaluation and discharge. That was the best case scenario, not even factoring in the whole mess to do with Pilot Luminas and every other little thing that had coalesced into... this. An apparent attempted suicide following a summons to Inquiry?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Izzy slung Jon's arm over her shoulders, bolstering the younger Pilot against herself. Almost as an afterthought, she shuffled them close enough for her to grab hold of the bottle of whiskey. At least in this way, it would just look like they'd been too enthusiastic with their alcohol and she was simply escorting him to sleep it off.
"Come on. Keep talking to me." she said, softly, easing the Pilot Cardinal out of her office and on in the direction of her apartments. It wasn't a far distance to go, but it felt like it took eons, and the sweat running down Izzy's back was only partially due to the physical exertion. Thankfully, they hadn't met anyone on their way, and so she hadn't needed to deal with the exceptional problem of trying to explain why she was half carrying Pilot Rheeves to her rooms.
She dropped the whiskey onto the nearest countertop she could, and carefully guided Jon to her bedroom, helping him onto the bed and working to get his shoes off.
"Stay with me. I'm gonna... shit, I'm gonna find something--" It was antidepressants, right? What the shit did you do for that? She wracked her brain, trying to remember the considerable years of chemistry and biology studies that she had to learn in order to better understand her psychic abilities. She all but ran into her bathroom, tearing into the various assembled medical supplies-- things that were necessary mostly only when she or her brother overdid it, when they pulled in too much oxygen or pushed the blood too far, or if some nasty contaminant had gotten in-- anti-seizure medication, noradrenaline, no no no--
Charcoal! She grabbed up the bottle, and rushed to mix the powder into a glass of water, pressing that into Jon's hands.
"Drink."
-
Jon didn't say much of anything as he was half walked, half dragged to Izzy's place. He just cried silently. "I'm sorry." He muttered as he was finally helped on to the bed. He managed to lift his hands to his face and- he felt so empty.
It was a knew feeling in many ways... he had felt similarly in visions but not like this. At least then the empty feeling was filling him and consuming his own emotional state. Right now he just felt like his emotions had been turned off. There was nothing there. He was just tired and empty. He wasn't sure if the tears had stopped, his face still felt wet. He fucked up. He fucked up big time. Had he meant for this to happen when he took those pills? He didn't even remember. He just wanted to stop feeling.
"Izzy I'm sorry, I never should have come. I should have ignored your message." It would have been better that way. If he died it would be alone in his apartment and the twins wouldn't have once again been wrapped up in his mess. And if he didn't die he had to report to the Inquiry office in the morning.
Jon's gut wrenched at the thought. Next thing he knew Izzy was shoving something in his hands. The black liquid in the glass smelled strange. Jon coughed into his hand, holding the glass as tight as he could in the other, but it wasn't a cough that came out. Shit. He couldn't get sick on Izzy's bed. Her room was actually nice.
He looked at Izzy, hunched over, barely able to sit up, and entirely helpless about what to do. He felt like he was going to be sick more too and was only just managing to hold onto the glass.
-
"If you had ignored my message," Izzy explained, her tone soft but her words firm, "I would have kicked your door down within the hour."
And she would have-- it would have been out of anger, of course, because she was sure she wouldn't have handled that whole situation well at all. But it would have resulted in much the same-- either way, Izzy would have found out about the pills, with how strongly they had hit Jon's bloodstream.
Which was part of the problem. Izzy slid up onto the bed beside Jon, sliding her hands up and against his throat, her palms settling against his pulse.
"Drink," she repeated, though the command was distant, her eyes glazing over as she pressed her influence downwards, into Jon's skin and below the delicate fibers of muscle, running along the vibrant pathways that made up every tiny blood vessel. Already the chemical poisoning was taking its toll-- her brows knitted tight, seeing but not seeing, feeling the way Jon's blood pressure fluttered, soft and weak, and how his organs struggled to keep up with less and less oxygen--
Not on her goddamn watch. She pressed her influence in deeper, seeped into the Pilot Cardinal's skin and lungs and bones, took a deep breath-- not for herself but for Jon, pulling in air and urging the blood faster, harder, carrying more oxygen to make up for what Jon could no longer provide on his own.
"Breathe with me," came another, distant command, the Pilot Noble taking deep, long breaths of her own, a residual side effect of trying to control another person's systems. It was always remarkably... intimate, getting this close to someone. Izzy did it for a living, of course, but it never failed to astound her just what it felt like to be in another person's skin-- not their mind, but the hardware attached. She felt her heart flutter-- no, that was Jon's, and for a moment she feared the organ was trying to fail, but--
But no. The flutter came and went as thick, salty tears dropped down his face, and Izzy finally recognized the anomaly as a reaction to pain. Pain she, unfortunately, couldn't fix with drugs and hemokinesis, no matter how much she wanted to. The best she could do in this situation, she supposed, was to keep talking like she knew any better.
"...It's going to be okay, Jon. We'll take this one step at a time, and we're going to do it together. All of us." All three of us.
-
His skin was damp with a think layer of sweat and he felt as if the room was spinning and like he felt like he was going to vomit, but he choked down the weird drink. His gaze weakly focused on Izzy, and for a second he thought she was Chance taking care of him again. He really was so pathetic, wasn't he? An absolute disgrace to Aedolis. He didn't deserve to be a Pilot in the first place, let alone have ever had friends like the Kiers twins.
He definitely was not good enough for Chance.
Jon tried to focus on what Izzy was telling him to do but it was tough. He really just wanted to pass out. Still, he tried to match Izzy's breathing, his own was far shallower than hers and more labored but- it felt strange. A bit like she was doing something to his insides but it was hard to even feel. there was just a sense that she was.
The tears kept falling down his cheeks. "I love him.. I didn't want to hurt him. He's too good for this Iz. I fucked up."
-
"Too good for this...?" Izzy asked, quietly, her focus torn between Jon's blood and Jon's emotional state, mistaking more than a few things for a downright medical emergency and feeling fresh pangs of terror each time. But Jon was still talking, and that was the important part. And so she worked to keep him doing just that, grey eyes flicking up to meet Jon's tear-filled ones.
"Okay, so you fucked up. This is a tough situation, and you hurt him, bad. But," and here Izzy took a deep breath, her own emotions locked in a civil war between feeling for her brother and feeling for the Pilot Cardinal on her bed, "but... he loves you. Has loved you and will continue to love you. I mean, shit, I got a front row seat to romcom-levels of pining for a year solid... that's not something you can just shake off. I don't think it's something Chancey wants to shake off."
Which was true. For how hard Chance had cried, for how lost he had looked afterwards, for how distant a version of himself that he had shifted to... Izzy had always been privy to her twin's thoughts, and vice versa, and she was left without a shred of doubt that Chance wanted nothing more than to be where Pilot Rheeves was.
"The problem is, you have to tell him. We're kinetic, Jon. He's just going to go to his grave thinking you were covering your ass if you don't tell him about all this." She paused, just for the moment, focusing a little harder as she felt a subtle drop in blood pressure, pushing her influence all around Jon's ribs and up into his throat, keeping his airways open and his heart pumping. "The pills, everything."
-
Jon closed his eyes. For a moment the lump in his throat grew so large that he stopped breathing as fear and anxiety came rushing back full force. It was hard to remain calm and not choke on his tears but fortunately Izzy's abilities were helping with that.
"I can't. Not now... not with the summons... not with all this. I'm endangering you as it is. I-" Jon took in a sputtering deep breath and tried to force himself to stay calm, it was nigh impossible though. "I thought losing Temple fucked me up. I thought I'd never recover- I couldn't even let myself feel my own feelings for Chance and-" And I took pills that were probably effecting my abilities for months, just so I could cope with Temple's loss.
In his current state his thoughts were as clear as if they had been spoken from his mouth, a task that was becoming harder with trying to focus on actually breathing.
And now I know... I was never really in love with Temple in the first place. He was my friend, and I loved him. I always will... but its nothing like with Chance. I would die a thousand times to keep Chance safe.
Jon started to drift off to sleep, lacking the energy to stay awake. He really wished Chance was here to hold him one more time. He prayed the Pilot Echo was safe.
-
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."
-
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.
-
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.
-
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.
-
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?"
-
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."
-
"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.
-
"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."
-
"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.