visitants | A Gathering, of Sorts

A Gathering, of Sorts

[Immediately after the trial, to absolutely no one's surprise, Juno makes a beeline for the bar. He spends about a half hour alone, wallowing in his self-pity before he gets it in his head that people would probably try and seek him out. Punch him, or maybe pity him. He welcomes the punching, not so much the pitying. And, God, he doesn't want to deal with that right now.

So, what better way to redirect people than by giving out an invitation? He gathers about three different whiskey bottles in his arms before setting off on his quest. The survivors will find a haphazardly scribbled note slipped under their cabin door that reads one word -- BAR. When people start to gather at the bar, they'll find some varying types of alcohol sort of just...haphazardly strewn about on the tables. There's no host in sight--at least, not currently. Juno, himself, can be found elsewhere about town, trying to avoid everyone.

It's an apology, of sorts. He wishes he didn't have to make it.]

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[It's not like Juno can really stop an intangible ghost from visiting. Or from being concerned.]

I hope you don't think my opinion of you would change so quickly. I'm not so fickle.

[Juno barely reacts when he sees Watson. He takes another gulp whiskey, giving him a weary look.]

Didn't think you'd be so quick to come visit. What do you want?

Wanted to make sure you weren't drowning yourself in self loathing and liquor. [Pointedly looks at the bottle.]

And I wanted to check on you. I know you're not doing alright, and I don't expect you to be alright, but that doesn't mean I can't be worried.

Too late.

[He falls silent, a vaguely surprised expression on his face. But then he buries it, looking down at his feet.]

And so you've see how terrible I am. Your job is done.

[This man has spent the majority of 15 years mother henning the most stubborn manic genius in the world, he's not giving up that easily. Especially now that he doesn't even have a physical form.

But he doesn't want to push Juno too hard, not tonight. ...Just a little.]

Do you mind if I stay here a bit?

...

[He's had people knocking on his door all night, and he's mostly been cold and unwelcoming to them. If Watson is asking to stay, despite everything....

He shifts over slightly, giving room for Watson to sit in the cot. Well, if he were still a physical being.]

You know what they say about misery.

[how do ghost sit

Somehow or another, Watson figures it out- he's not quite sitting per say, he's just floating at the exact right spot to appear as though he is. If Juno were in a state to pay close attention, he'd notice Watson occasionally noclipping through the cot.]

Have you read through my journal?

[His brow furrows, and he pulls the notebook out of an inner coat pocket. Juno scrutinizes the nondescript cover, as if it would reveal some unknowable secret.]

Haven't exactly had time to do some light reading.

[To be honest, he doesn't know whether or not he wants to read it. He feels like he'd be intruding on the sanctity of Watson's mind, something he's not exactly keen on doing ever since...well. And, in part, he's scared to see what he'll find.]

Are you sure you still want me to keep this? Hell, you don't even know if I'll be able to deliver this to Holmes.

I trust you to take care of it. And to use it- that journal contains all of my notes on the situation we're stuck in, as well as notes from previous cases I've been involved with. I have no idea what might be useful to you, but you have my permission to read through it.

I do ask that you use some discretion- my notes on specific people do have some personal details on them- but otherwise, read through it as much as you wish, and write your own notes if you need.

... I know it may never reach Holmes, but I still have to hold out hope that it might.

[Juno nods carefully, still staring down at the notebook in his hands. After a minute or so of silence, he tucks it back into his jacket, sighing.]

Maybe later, when I'm actually sober enough to read. [And after it doesn't hurt as much.

He takes another swig of whiskey and exhales sharply, resting his head on his hand. He feels the urge to say "I'm sorry", again, but he knows he's just trying to make himself feel better. And "sorry" doesn't bring back the dead.]

Hope Holmes won't mind having a surly detective come up to him and say, "Hey, your husband died in a terrible game of mutual killing, here's a notebook he gave me. Bye."

[Watson snorts.]

He's heard stranger conversation starters. Though before you can leave, he'll probably rope you into telling him every detail that you can possibly remember of this "game". And deduce half of what you don't tell him within minutes.

[He's... trying not to think of what Holmes will do when he realizes Watson is dead. It definitely won't be pretty.]

I doubt he'd guess that I'm a Martian. I can't tell if he'd be an interesting conversational partner or just piss me off.

[A half grin appears on his face, but it quickly slips away. It hits him that he had taken away any possibility that Watson would ever return to his old life. Because, of course, Juno Steel can't go five seconds without ruining those around him. He buries his head in his hands.]

Christ. I don't even know how you can still talk to me right now. You--You had so much more to live for than me--for God's sake, you're actually married to the man you love. And I-- [His voice wavers ever so slightly. He pauses, forcing his words to remain level.] I don't have anything. Hell, I never had anything. It would've been better if I had just lay down and died.

You'd be surprised. I doubt he'd know you were from a different planet, but time period wouldn't be too difficult to figure out- as long as he doesn't dismiss the thought as illogical.

... The only ones at fault for what happened are Alfred and our dear Mayor. Alfred is the fool who went out that night intending to kill, and the Mayor is the one who forced us into this situation in the first place. And, Juno, if I had been the one to find Alfred in the woods that night, and I had been the one to wound him while fighting for my life, would you have blamed me for it? If I had lived, and you had died, would you blame me?

... I miss Holmes. I do. And it breaks my heart to know I won't be able to come home to him. But that was going to happen one day- we all die in the end, Juno. And I had a wonderful several years with him, and I loved him, and he loved me, and that's what matters to me.

[... Watson doesn't bring up the fact that Holmes is about as self destructive as Juno. How could he? Juno's already under the impression he has Watson's blood on his hands- Watson can't let him know that Holmes might decide that a life without him isn't worth living. That he'd turn back to the cocaine- stronger than the dosage Watson had weaned him down to- stop eating, stop taking care of himself... Watson can't think about it. Not yet.]

You have yourself to live for. You have people you care about, as loathe as you are to admit it- people back in your world, and here. [He grins a little.] You have me, nagging you to take care of yourself, in what must be the most irritating haunting in the history of spirits.

[Juno falls quiet, listening as Watson speaks. A few times, he opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then he closes it again.

Watson's right, of course. The Mayor was the one who put together this damn game, but, hell, it was Juno's fault for playing right into his hands. If Juno had been the one to make the decision to kill Alfred, he'd insist upon it being his own fault, because he wouldn't want anyone else to suffer for him. And if Juno cared so much about these people as Watson so claimed, then he'd make sure than they didn't get hurt because of him. He'd failed.

Pathetic.

Juno finishes off the last drops of whiskey, then places it on the ground and pushes it under the cot with his foot. There's the sound of glass clinking against glass. Normally, he'd make a slightly humorous quip about Watson's bedside manner, but...he can't think of anything. He lifts his injured hand to his face, his fingers curled inwards and pressing on the wound.

Finally, after a deafening silence, Juno speaks.]

He was a master thief.

[His stomach twists into a knot as he tries convey his words in the most casual tone he can muster. He's going to die here, anyways. May as well confide in...well, the Confidant.]

[Watson is quiet. He's not going to interrupt unless he has to- as though he's afraid that if he speaks, Juno will immediately close off again.

Go on.]

[Juno visibly hesitates before speaking again. His words are measured and slow--as if reciting from a script. Like he's already gone over this in his head countless times.]

He came in wearing a fake name and a fake title. He'd been assigned to help me on my case for my "protection." His smile made him look like he'd be glad to kiss or kill me.

...I quickly figured out his true motives--he was using me as a way to steal a Martian artifact from my client. He stole a lot of things that day. The mask. The keys to my safe.

[...And a cliche. He sighs, shaking his head.]

Didn't think I'd ever see him again. I was on the trail of someone taking Martian artifacts for their own use, and I needed a favor from a friend. Some information on the black market. Turns out, he was the guy with the details. His employer was the one after all these Martian artifacts, but he wanted out. Thus, he decided to help me. We figured out what we needed, but...his employer found out he was trying to skip out.

The next few days...were a lot.

[He stops. His hand closes into a tight fist, and a spot of blood appears on the bandage. It stings. A mere pinprick in comparison to the tests and punishment Miasma had subjected him to. And seeing Nureyev, the master thief, helplessly captured and brutalized--

He pushes the thought out of his mind, focusing back on Watson.]

I've told you about the Martian thing at the sleepover. How I lost my eye. But I wasn't alone. He was with me. And when everything was done, when we were finally safe, he offered me an opportunity. Leave Mars and go with him to explore the stars. Or...if I didn't want to, he'd never bother me again.

[A pause. Nureyev had made Juno feel that life might actually been worth living. He made him feel...a lot.]

I told him I wanted to come.

[He falls silent. There's an unspoken 'but' at the end of that sentence. Juno glances towards Watson, painfully aware at how much he's just revealed to this man.]

[To be honest, its a story Watson's heard before, in multiple variations. He's pretty sure "my lover turned out to be a criminal but I still love him" was an explanation given in more than one of Holmes' cases. That doesn't mean he can't still empathize.

He hears that unspoken "but", and inclines his head, a gesture for Juno to continue.]

[He hesitates, resting his head on his hand.]

I left before morning.

[The sentence is spoken with sense of finality. Better to avoid ruining Nureyev's life before it ever happens. He doesn't regret it, of course, but...there's a small part of him that wonders if it would've worked out.

The cabin is quiet.]

... Why?

[He's a little surprised. Watson was expecting to hear that the thief left in the night. Not the other way around.]

[He opens his mouth, and his words briefly catch in his throat. There are a million ways in which he could justify his actions that night, but none of them seem to fit. Does he even know the real reason?]

...If I left Mars, who'd be left to help clean up Hyperion City?

[He seems unsure of his own answer. That's what Juno told himself at first, yes. But he thinks back to that night, how there was a lingering moment in the doorway that seemed to last a thousand years, how he feels that a part of him is still there. How Nureyev probably hates him, loathes him for breaking his promise. For breaking his heart.]

[There's a lot Watson could say to that. Most of it would just make Juno retreat deeper into his own self loathing.

"If Holmes has returned to me sooner, instead of spending three years letting me think he was dead, who would have taken care of Moriarty's followers?"

After a long silence, Watson speaks again, chosing his words carefully.]

I believe I mentioned before that you seemed to want to avoid relationships with other people out of fear. You told me that was ridiculous.

... Juno, I don't want to lecture you on your past decisions, and I don't blame you for them. But I believe you made a mistake that night. And that when- yes, when- you get out of here alive, you had better seek that man out, regardless of what you believe he thinks of you.

[He stares at Watson, then lets out a single, harsh laugh.]

Really putting a lot of faith in me, huh, doc? I don't know what your world is like, but in my world, you can't take back your mistakes.

[And he's back to being stubborn and abrasive again. Hah. Finding Nureyev? He'd be more likely to survive this hellish place than to actually track down the elusive man. Nureyev is a master thief--if he doesn't want to be found, he won't be. Juno would have to search through dozens of false identities to even get close to locating him.]

You can't take them back, no. But you can apologize and try to heal what you've done.

Holmes learned that well enough. God knows I didn't forgive him right away. But he tried. He did everything he could to prove to me that despite everything he'd done, despite the fact that he had a reason- that he knew it didn't excuse leaving me for three years. And he did everything to prove that he loved me despite it, and to prove that he deserved my forgiveness.

It's not too late to at least give him closure. Even if he never forgives you, he'll at least know there was a reason.

...

[Juno leans back against the wall, sighing. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Watson is right, of course. He never got the chance to talk to Nureyev about their relationship. What they both wanted.]

I'm...I'm sorry.

[He doesn't even know why he's apologizing.]

... You don't need to apologize to me. If anything, I'm sorry for being a bit pushy about it. But I do genuinely believe... that you should seek him out again. As it is, you're beating yourself up over leaving him, but not actually doing anything to try to make up for it.

And I... I get it, I really do. I get why you don't want to do anything about it. But it's affecting you, and I'm sure it's affecting him. And at least closure would help you both.

We don't have to keep talking about this, if you'd prefer not to.

A Gathering, of Sorts

cabin

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cw: drugs mention, suicidal ideation implied?

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juno's tragic backstory part 1: unlocked

achievement get

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