Week 2, Saturday Post-Trial - Sandalphon

[fragileprophet]

[This time it really is one last gay for the road. With his own fate unknown, there are a lot of people who have stopped by to talk to them. But, eventually, the night wears on. Ion can't sleep. He has one thing on his mind. So, in the dark, dead hours of the night, a visitor enters the dungeon. When Ion reaches Sandalphon's cell, he's carrying a cup of coffee, balancing it carefully.]

I brought you something...I made it myself.

Comments

[melancoffeea]

[The familiar lump in his throat swells at those tender words. How long has he wanted to hear those words? Now that he has, he finds his flimsy walls crumbling. He swallows the first whimper that almost escapes him, but he can't stop the second as his hands tremble around the cup.

His voice, too, shakes.]

Why . . . why does it have to be now? I don't deserve those words . . . I didn't do anything . . .

[fragileprophet]

That's not true. You did a lot--you did so much for me.

[He reaches a hand up and coils it around the cell's bar.]

You made me see myself in a way that I hadn't been able to before. And you cared...cared so much you put yourself here.

[melancoffeea]

That's not true . . .

[He parrots the words as he hunches over, curling in on himself.]

This was my plan from the start. It wasn't out of special consideration for anyone. I didn't . . . No one should die, because of someone like me. I never had any intention of surviving. I wanted to be here.

[fragileprophet]

It is true.

[He feels so small. Even now, can he not get through? This is their last chance, and is Sandalphon going to die...feeling so meaningless?]

I know you. You're someone that deserves to live. I wanted to be the one to do this for you.

[melancoffeea]

Enough!

[It's a quiet shout, and the rest of his words are delivered in the same fashion. He refuses to look at Ion.]

I don't deserve it, nor do you have to do anything for me. If this ability is real . . . If this foolish trick works, then you'll be free. You'll be with a worthier partner. So don't waste your breath on me.

[fragileprophet]

You can't make me!

[It is, absolutely, by far, the single most childish thing that Ion has ever said in his life. He actually covers his mouth after her says it, startled at himself, but that doesn't erase the pain on his face. He struggles back to his feet, facing Sandalphon head on.]

You don't know how much I'm going to miss you! I never wanted another partner!

[melancoffeea]

[Ion's strong reaction causes Sandalphon's eyes to widen as his head snaps toward the former. He doesn't understand why he has to fight on this point. The words seem to slip through the cracks as he all but stammers.]

Stop . . . Forget about me. Don't be foolish!

[fragileprophet]

[Ion shakes his head.]

I won't! I want to remember you always--and--and--why should it matter if that makes me a fool? I'd rather be a fool who keeps you in my heart than wise and empty!

[melancoffeea]

[The trembling increases. He drops the cup, but it thankfully falls away from Sandalphon as its contents spill onto the dungeon floor.

He repeats the one word that cuts through his mind.]

Stop. I don't want to hear it. Don't say any more!

[fragileprophet]

But you need to hear it! I won't let you die for me and think that it means nothing!

[His hands clench so tightly around the bars.]

I can't take it--I can't take this anymore!

[melancoffeea]

Stop!

[He brings his hands up to his ears. There's a flash of light that fades as soon as it comes, leaving behind six radiant wings of white that sprout from Sandalphon's back to curl around his body like a shield.

His eyes are wide, unfocused. The wings are still, but he continues to shake.]

[fragileprophet]

No!

[He's never had to say no to someone like this. Never had to shoot someone down. Ion winces from the light, but though his feet stumble backward his hands keep him planted where he is. He blink past tears, persisting.]

I care about you!

[melancoffeea]

[Despite having just sprung to his feet, Sandalphon drops to his knees. His hands slide from his ears to cover his face as tears well in his widened eyes.]

Ah . . .

[This can't be real. He has to be hallucinating.]

[fragileprophet]

[Ion slides down to meet him on his level. He realizes suddenly that he's exhausted--this is exhausting. And he feels as guilty as he does righteous, because he isn't blind to the way that Sandalphon is taking this. How his shouting has turned to pleading has turned to wretched silence.

It makes him want to apologize, but he knows that he has to stop that. He pauses, and then speaks more softly. He's not even sure what he's trying to say anymore, so the words come out unbidden.]

I just wanted you to stay for a little while longer.

[melancoffeea]

[Someone wants him to stay, his mind repeats in an agonizing chant. Someone wants him to stay. Someone wants him to stay.

And he failed them, like he always does.

A sob escapes him, followed by another. By then, he's regulated his breathing enough to rasp out a few words.]

I . . . I can't. I can't . . .

[fragileprophet]

[Ion closes his eyes, pressing his forehead forward against the cool metal.]

It's okay. You don't have to do everything.

[Some things are impossible. Some things you want so badly, but just wanting isn't enough. Some things can't ever chance.]

It isn't your fault...and I'm so thankful for how long you were able to give me.

[melancoffeea]

[He gasps out a shuddering breath, willing his body to stop shaking so uncontrollably. In tandem with his efforts, the wings on his back draw back just enough to provide a clearer view of his face.

He's quiet, afraid.]

What if it doesn't work . . . ? What if my actions condemned you to an early death?

[fragileprophet]

I don't know.

[Because he doesn't. He has no comforting words. Ion smiles sadly.]

I'm afraid...but I trust you, and no matter what, I'll be right there with you.

[melancoffeea]

[His hands fall from his face to seek out the floor, his fingers clawing at nothing as they curl in to make fists. He bows his head, prostrating himself before Ion.

He doesn't deserve such compassion.]

. . . I'm sorry.

[Nor does he deserve forgiveness, but the mere privilege of being able to apologize instills in him a strange feeling.]

[fragileprophet]

[There are so many different things he could say. Normally, he'd tell Sandalphon that he doesn't have to apologize. That no harm was done, in the end. Nothing was meant. But...it would only be so sincere. Because discovering Natsuo dead, it did hurt. And right now, he is afraid. Afraid for himself, afraid for Sandalphon.

Ion reaches his hands out through the bars, but he can't reach him.

It's lonely.]

Thank you so much.

[For the apology, for all that he's done, for all that he's still trying to do. For listening. For being here. For inspiring him. For protecting him. For keeping his promises, even if they were ones Ion never asked for. For doing the right thing--for speaking up, for using his power to bring back the one he killed. There's so much to thank him for.]

[melancoffeea]

[With his head bowed, Sandalphon doesn't see the hands that reach out to him. His vision blurs, and he sheds silent tears that drop onto the floor beneath him.

He's happy. He's so happy that it hurts, renders him speechless—makes him more accepting of his impending execution but so afraid of losing Ion, who believes that he's worth something.]

[fragileprophet]

[At the moment, there isn't anything more to be said. Ion stays where he is, leaning as close as he can, eyes half-lidded but never straying from where Sandalphon stoops so prone. He'll stay there as long as he can--all night. He has another gift he'll have to leave to get him, but it can wait, at least, until Sandalphon's tears ebb.

For now, he's here. He's right here.]

[melancoffeea]

[How strange. Before the castle, the person in front of him walked away or shooed him off every time he teared up; yet Ion is still here when he wipes his eyes and lifts his head. The worst of the crying spell has passed, and he finds his words.]

You don't have to stay the night. It might be uncomfortable.

[fragileprophet]

I could never be uncomfortable with such good company.

[He straightens slightly, his stance easy.]

And besides, I want to. You don't mind, do you?

[melancoffeea]

. . . No.

[He sits up, blinking at a wing. It's white—spotless.

Then his gaze drifts to the fallen cup and the puddle of coffee. He sighs. The wings blink out of existence and he rights the cup. There's nothing to be done about the mess.]