revivalproject | Archivist Catch-All

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Archivist Catch-All

WHO: Jon & YOU
WHERE: Coruscant - Various places
WHAT: Coruscant Event catch-all. Some open, some closed prompts. See what your little Eldritch avatar has been doing...
WHEN: Coruscant Event
WARNINGS: One of them includes Tony. Approach at own risk.

The Perfect Gift [ OPEN ]

Coruscant is- A lot. A lot of city, a lot of people a lot of- Everything. Even for Jon, who has been living in London for a good decade now. But even London seems unnaturally small compared to Coruscant. And yet living there has ensured that Jon isn't intimidated by crowds. In fact, he has come to find himself quite capable of adjusting himself to their situation and as he learns more about the planet and its inhabitants, Jon also learns more about how to navigate it and find that which he is looking for.

Which proves invaluable While out to acquire goods and supplies he deems useful for their inevitable return to Temba.

It's a long list Jon has for himself. A variety of clothes and footwear are on it, including some actual swimwear, equipment and supplies for his little chemistry lab, writing utensils, notepads, new variants of tea and other luxuries, a couple of handy little tools and - Gifts. And especially those gifts prove to be the difficult part. Since the person Jon is trying to find a gift for is none other than Tony. The man that tries to fix everything and constantly makes gifts for others himself. Finding a gift for such a man is harder than one might wish to think.

Apparently a selection of treats are about to become part of the assortment of gifts Jon has already picked up and he is currently studying the packaging of what may be actual chocolate. One can never go wrong with some sweets and a good wine. Jon smiles softly to himself and his attention drifts over to something that is either a futuristic bottle opener or a very peculiar toy, making him frown before reaching out to pick it up, vaguely addressing either the person next to him or no one in particular. "No idea what this is, but- I'm curious."

Being A Monster [ OPEN ]

Some may say it is ill-advised for Jon to be heading down into the lower levels of this multi-layered city. And yet here he is, his worn clothes and too large poncho making him easily melt into the crowd of beings who ignore his seeking stare. A stare that isn't seeking for difficulties with finding its target, but rather because every being down here proves to be a remarkably suited target for his needs.

He takes the easy route and turns into the next bar he passes. There are plenty of dreadful stories here for him to request, confine to memory and later record. Which will have to wait until they are back in Temba, since his tape recorder has not been brought along on this trip.

It's later that night - Or maybe early the next morning that the Archivist returns to the hotel they are all staying in. His steps swaying a little from the alcohol, but a contentment rarely seen by many on his expression. He even gives a cheerful wave to anyone else he encounters at this odd hour. "Someone is up early!"

Among Force Sensitives [ CLOSED to Obi-Wan ]

It's not without a healthy degree of trepidation that Jon walks up to the intimidating structure that he has been told to be the Jedi Temple. He is dressed in a set of new clothes, which he assumes to be local enough in style and clear of the wear and grime of the clothes he has been wearing down over the past months on Agra 10. Well fitting grey pants covering the better part of dark boots and a light, long-sleeved tunic paired with a very functional messenger bag is just one outfit the Archivist has come to pick up so far and he finds himself particularly happy to now own some footwear that isn't meant to be purely decorative while one spends the better part of the day behind a desk.

Though even his new attire doesn't fully keep Jon from pausing briefly in his steps to look up the massive building. Home and training ground of the Jedi. Jedi like Cal and Obi-Wan and Ezra. Beings sensitive to an energy field called The Force.

Beings that can sense something is not right with him.

Jon swallows once, hand tightening around the strap of his bag before he pushes forward, expression set into a stubborn set of determination. It will be fine. The Jedi Master has agreed to accompany him into the Temple, meaning Jon won't be heading in there by himself. It will be fine.

At the top of the stairs, he comes to another stop, finding himself looking up at massive columns of a height that raises questions for the Archivist. Questions he will be keeping to himself at least for the time being before taking his attention back down and looking around for the man he is supposed to meet up here at the very entrance of the Temple, muttering to himself. "...Christ. I hope he hasn't forgotten."

It's a date! [ CLOSED to Tony ]

New clothes that actually fit him and that Jon feels good in are but one of the things this planet has provided. Another thing is the chance to get his hair cut back to a more reasonable length, get the items required for a decent shave and of course have a proper bath. Small luxuries that add noticeably to Jon feeling human again. And to provide him with the confidence to ask Tony out for a proper date. How many chances like this will they get anyway?

The beings tending to their needs at their hotel have been quite helpful to him with setting everything up and recommending the right places not too far away. From a good, rather exclusive restaurant high up in a tall spire looming over Coruscant's upper level along with similar, yet distant skyscrapers and providing an excellent view to an artificially created and very unique park at the very base of said spire to the suggestion of a sensual and very private message provided by specially programmed droids up in their hotel's poshest suite offered by the beings in charge of the hotel tending to their guest's needs. Being that are remarkably eager to please this easy source of good credits. And after all these months on Agra 10, Jon has very little qualms about spending what the Agrii provide them with.

Having arrived a little early, Jon has already been seated at one of the rather few tables the restaurant actually possesses. All set apart and separated with strategically placed pots filled with colorful alien flora and a stunning view out of the large windows making up the entire outer walls of the place. A soft tune hangs in the air that Jon listens idly to while looking out of the window, over the city and every once in a while daring a glance down, feeling a bit thankful that Mike Crew hasn't instilled an even greater fear of heights into him. His hands are loosely clasped in front of him on the table, having very little to do at the moment.

When he hears a set of footsteps approaching, Jon turns his attention away from the window to greet who he assumes to be Tony with a gently, yet genuine smile.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm not-" And that's all of Jon's protest that actually makes it out of his mouth before the look on Tony's face along with that effortless and almost innocently offered question cut him off from his train of thought and Jon finds himself staring, moth half-open and mind helpfully providing the visuals to that question.

Jon snaps his mouth shut after a new layer of crimson has settled around his ears and he exhales through his nose while the waiter glides back to their table in unostentatious politeness, serves them each a small, tasteful plate of appetizers along with an expensive looking glass and a matching carafe of water for Tony.

It's only by the time the waiter if drifting away again that Jon reacquires his voice. "-right. I... Now I will be thinking about that all evening, won't I."

While Jon slowly burned to ash on the other side of the table, Tony was all polite smiles and thanks for the waiter, who did a very well practiced job of not noticing Jon was broken. It was almost disappointing then that Jon didn't go back to glaring for the humiliation, but that was such a defeated way to admit to his curiosity that Tony was snickering again with another apologetic furrow of his brow. "I hope it doesn't ruin your plans," he said, very unconvincingly around a lingering smirk. "You've been doing so well so far, for a guy who doesn't date. Fancy restaurant, champagne..." Okay, they weren't that far in, leaving Tony's hand open without anything else to add to the list of classic date mainstays, but he'd seen some plans begin and end there. Solid start. Most dates where he had been the one asked would have him in ropes in a creepy basement by now. "You might even be on track for a kiss by the end of the night, if you're a gentleman."

"If it depends on whether or not we swap undergarments I may have to make a few adjustments, but I want to remain hopeful." Jon responds with a a little nudge of his finger against the frame of his glasses as he directs his attention to the plate before him and studies the gathering of good-looking and yet impossible to identify little bites.

He picks up a small fork and with it picks one of the pieces before raising his eyes back to Tony. "A nice meal a little walk under an artificial sky, an invigorating massage... I admit I had some help." And he shrugs lightly. He's trying. At least he sees room for whichever activities may lead to swapped underwear. Existing or nonexisting one.

Dinner and a walk remained classics, but the massage had Tony raising his eyebrows, sure that wasn't a very confident euphemism from the way Jon was still squirming over the underwear. That wasn't a typical experience that Tony shared on a date, anyway, and maybe it was the journey and the hotel and the luxury compared to what had become daily life in Temba, but Tony asked, "Is this the honeymoon? Already? I guess I owe you an apology, it seems I am very late to the wedding." It was already out before Tony realized that might have sounded discouraging to Jon's effort, and he raised a hand preemptively to stop Jon from sputtering over it like that, it was just a joke, then touched his heart in appreciation for the thought. He redirected, "I should thank them," trying to sound more sincere than he usually did so Jon knew who Tony meant to offer his adoration, but head tilted inquisitively in the hope that Jon would tell him who this romantic was that helped him plan. Whether that actually would result in a thanks or Tony withering in anxiety depended on who Jon was sharing these details with.

Having them both combust would be disastrous, so Tony's tone didn't even change in the one breath he took before he continued, "We could get it out of the way, if you want, you know, just so you can plan around it. Start counting. When you hit 30, come join me in the bathroom."

Jon does, indeed, tense up for a moment, frozen in place while his mind tries to figure out what he has done wrong. But all the impending self-accusations come to a halt of their own at the gesture that follows the comment and his heart dares to take another beat when Tony mentions his own gratitude. His heart picks up on speed while Jon's fork is lowered back to his plate and he raises the hand again to scratch his neck lightly, just below his ear. "I- ah... I just... I asked the porter of our hotel if they knew a nice place and... Turns out the hotel employs someone to assist in setting up private events? A- An elderly Twi'lek. Mr. Nuro. Very enthusiastic, made some calls and set everything up."

Removing the hand form his neck, Jon uses it to motion for Tony to please remain seated while his other hand clenches around the edge of the table in a display of growing nervousness. A nervousness that transitions neatly into Jon's next words coming out as something closer to a sharpened whisper. "I- I don't think that's a good idea, Tony!"

Having a private event planner didn't make the effort seem any less grand than a honeymoon, so while Tony was relieved it hadn't been someone they knew now intimately aware of their evening plans, getting help from a friend would have meant Tony didn't suddenly feel a lot of pressure to preform again. Quick, what did a normal date in a nice restaurant feel like? Stiff and weird, mostly. Would he have teased anyone else with a bathroom quickie? Maybe, Tony wasn't sure now, but he was certainly responding automatically to that sharp tone, "What, you want to do it right here? I don't know if I can be that quiet, but we could probably tell the waiter to leave us alone until we ask for him again, you minx."

To be fair, Tommy probably would have been just as happy to scout out nearby places and arrange for something for them. And unlike alien assistants, Tommy will be around in Temba as well.

Though for now Jon is back to staring widely at Tony, mouth slowly opening to say something and not entirely sure just how well prepared he has been for this. "..ah...."

The expression lasts a couple more moments before Jon's mouth snaps back shut without him having produced anything meaningful and sets into a determined stubbornness. "Fine." Is all Jon finally settles with, tone still sharp. He pushes his chair back and gets up to crisply walk around the table, eyes never leaving Tony. It's a quick few steps before he is next to the other man, and holds out one hand for Tony to take.

That had effectively offended Jon, or so Tony thought and let Jon have his stretch of silence with a coy grin until it was enough to get him to snap, literally. Instead of the snap, or lecture, or even a hiss of warning that Tony was anticipating, though, Jon was...leaving? That was a fucking roller coaster. From that determined set of Jon's jaw that had Tony's grin brightening briefly and betraying his delight at getting even better than he was hoping for, that look, and Jon exactly where he wanted him to hopefully needle just enough to maintain the kind of frustration that he was going to have to unload on Tony the second they were behind closed doors--he really thought the closed doors were a necessary component, so when Jon stood up, the only reason Tony could see was that Tony had pushed too far too fast, and not that Jon was going to ask for Tony to join him.

It was more impulse than understanding that had Tony taking Jon's offered hand obediently, and it was his turn to utter stupidly, "Uh." He took the hand more like a gift, in both of his, than the demand it was, so his move to actually stand as well was belated. The only thing he could think to say when he did, though he was still resolutely staring at the stubborn line of Jon's mouth and had not once looked away to check, was, "Those pants do look great, you look great, great choice."

Jon's expression remains unchanging for at least until he feels his hand being taken in both of Tony's which has him pause and glance down for a moment and then back up to inspect the man's face. He doesn't move from where he is standing and lets Tony talk about his pants. The corner of Jon's mouth twitches faintly, daring to pull his lips into a fond smile yet again.

"And you can be very adorable, Tony." Jon says softly and then his expression turns sad with his eyes dropping back down to his hand between Tony's two hands. Jon brings his remaining hand up to join the other three.

"You noticed it too, didn't you. My ship, the Vanquish... We had no pilot. Bucky, he... Left. And so did-" Steve. He doesn't have to say that out loud, does he. Instead of doing so, Jon shrugs weakly and tries to press both his hands around one of Tony's. "They had plans, you know. Plans for a future together. Steve... Told me. He never acted on those plans. And now..."

Just another, even weaker shrug follows while Jon tries to keep his hold on Tony's hand, suddenly afraid the man will pull away and run.

Okay, they were...standing, which was baffling enough to make Tony want to laugh as Jon's expression softened, only for the impulse to evaporate entirely when Jon suddenly looked sad instead. Tony ducked his head to try to catch Jon's gaze again with some panic, sure then that they were very officially standing for Jon to declare them incompatible, which was, okay, maybe, but a little unfair, they had just gotten their appetizers and Jon had taken him way more seriously than Tony had intended, so maybe they could talk about it if Jon didn't take his hands like someone had died. Tony shook one free before they could commit to that thought and try life support instead, to curl it under Jon's jaw then stroke a thumb behind his ear in reassurance.

That left him entirely unprepared for someone to have actually died. By Jon's shrug, Tony had only processed as far as, "What?," because all he had noticed was a sudden trip and a whole new galaxy, and hadn't stuck around to count heads. Steve especially was more than capable of handling himself after waking up in a whole new world, or he was supposed to be, ever reliable and solid and absolutely capable of leading them out of this mess. Tony didn't really hear what else Jon was trying to tell him, just started nodding as Jon appeared to run out of energy, watching his shoulders drop and the halting drop of his voice, feeling his heart turn to ash that sunk sickly into his stomach. Completely at a loss for what to do with that, the ambient sounds of the restaurant suddenly very loud and very present, Tony blinked several times then went, "Hey, it's okay--are you sure?," not that he wanted that answer. He coaxed Jon closer like he meant to comfort him in a hug, numb limbs on autopilot.

While Jon is aware that he isn't the one that has lost a close friend, an idol and- Possibly so much more, that he is the one that should be comforting Tony rather than the other way around, the hug is still accepted and returned.

"I'm sorry, Tony. I- I know he means a lot to you. Still remember the memory you showed me... Finding him..." Jon murmurs, giving the other man a squeeze that he hopes to be comforting. Just that he doesn't know how to comfort Tony in regards of the loss of a person as important to him as Captain America, an actual hero.

Tony wasn't sure if the squeeze was comforting, either, because he didn't know exactly what the comfort was for. It felt irrationally selfish that he felt--whatever this feeling was--at all, neither of them were even his Captain America. But it was all going to fall apart without him. But maybe it was better that they weren't here, they could have been in a place that they actually wanted to be, that place that Steve had told Tony that they meant to make their new lives together. But Tony had no real idea what happened to them. But it could happen to any of them at any second.

"I have to go," he said abruptly, easing Jon back to stalk stiffly away before he had whatever panic attack it was that he could feel ratcheting up his spine, the emotional outburst he was not supposed to have here already burning behind his eyes. It was fine, he was fine, he wheeled around again on his heel before he was even too far to reach for Jon again, apologetically. Where was he going to go, a bar? "I should have noticed," he said, then gestured between them, "You shouldn't have had to do this, I'm sorry, this was--" He tried to turn that gesture up into a wave at the room, this well planned event that Jon had put together for them not for Tony to completely mess up, but he made the mistake of looking up toward the ceiling as well and was left pressing the heel of his hand to his eye.

“Tony...” Jon says softly, anything but blind to Tony’s pain. “Don’t go. It’s- It’s alright.” He reaches out to touch Tony’s elbow, letting his fingers linger there.

“I- I admit this isn’t what this evening was supposed to be, but- I still meant it to be for us. I still want to be there for you and- I can protect you here. I can provide you a safe space.” He nods faintly towards the rest of the room where, in fact, there are still other people around. “...I’m already making sure neither of them acknowledges our presence.” And it’s true. Despite the undeniable presence of other beings, no one has shown any reaction of what has been happening between them during these past couple of minutes.

After swallowing once after admitting that he has been using his powers to ensure them some privacy, Jon exhales, eyes fixed on Tony. “But I’m am here. I’m here for you alone. Please let me help you, Tony. Please don’t run.” As he speaks, Jon raises his hands towards Tony’s head, ready to cradle the man close and help him fend off his grief.

The best way that Tony could think to describe the impression of looking out over the room and realizing no one in it was really aware of him was eerie. He didn't know Jon could do that, and he stared out at the restaurant while his vision blurred, wavering instinctively into Jon's reach and trying to decide how he felt about that. Steve would have hated it, Tony knew that immediately, and kind of wished he could hate it, too, so he could be angry with Jon and have something he understood and could do something about. What was he supposed to about this? Besides the very thing he had been trying to do since the whole thing started, only now he had to do it without Steve.

The anger was definitely there, but what Tony could muster toward Jon as he bowed into that embrace to press his face into Jon's shoulder was a clench of his fists in Jon's shirt at his sides. He really didn't know how to do this when he wasn't alone, where he could break whatever he wanted to feel like he had something to fix. Too restless to settle there, Tony asked, "Can we get out of here?," already lifting away and fishing his glasses out of his pocket to push up his nose before he even tried to meet Jon's eye. It wasn't really a question, Tony was swinging around and searching for anything that might slow Jon down to make it no longer a problem, muttering, "Sorry, are you hungry? Here," and tipping his plate of untouched appetizer into a napkin before Jon could answer. "We can pick something up, we can order something. There's probably a McDonalds out here, please, they wouldn't leave a market untapped. Got those weird, local menu items, though, you know, when you go to a McDonalds in Japan and its like, okay, I don't hate this, but I didn't come here for teriyaki sauce, I'm homesick."

Jon holds Tony close for the moment the other man lets him, awfully aware of the tension winding up within him and feeling his own guts tie into a knot at seeing the man he loves in such a state.

It's not a surprise that Tony pulls away after only a few moments and even less so that he is starting to get restless and push for them to leave. Jon just nods at the question. It's a cautious nod while he maintains a watchful eye on Tony. "We can. Where do you want me to take you, Tony?" He follows his answer with a question and moves to be next to Tony again, one hand on his arm, the other on his back.

The touch should have been reassuring, but the way Jon did it and how he phrased the question made Tony feel like Jon expected him to shake apart, which definitely made it worse and Tony was already self-conscious enough. He clicked his tongue in irritation, shoulders up defensively as he shrugged Jon away from fussing to pointedly drape an arm over his shoulders instead. They could at least walk out of here looking somewhat normal and not like Tony was very much retreating from the chemical spill that was that conversation. "You said we had a walk, let's walk," he answered, clipped and irritable, but the retreat was effective. His hackles dropped to ease him against Jon the further they got from the table, and by the time they were in the elevator and the doors slid shut into a reassuringly isolated chamber, he could slouch back against the cool wall and let out a slow, measured breath.

"I'm fine," he said there, aware that it might have been the most obviously untrue than it ever had, but if Jon could play along, it would help. A moment later, his voice shakier because it wasn't nearly as natural for him to say, but with his gaze still on the ceiling and Jon pulled against his chest in the hold around his neck, Tony could manage, "I'm scared," and that was about as far as he could go before he had to sniff and abandoned trying to articulate those multitude of fears.

Well, acting normal it is, apparently. Which Jon can do and he nods his agreement with Tony’s request, walking with him to the elevator. Walking is fine...

Inside the elevator and with being pulled close by Tony, Jon closes his eyes for a moment to let out an exhale of his own, letting go of the admittedly clumsy compulsion effect he had fabricated to keep the people’s interest averted. Jon opens his eyes again in time to hear Tony’s words and all he can do is give a little nod.

He knows.

Of course he does.

And he doesn’t like it.

“...I know.” Is his response, unclear whether it is directed at Tony’s claim to be fine, or his admission of being afraid.

Jon takes a deep breath and steadies his own voice before tilting his head in a way that lets him look up at Tony. His voice is firm and decided when he speaks again. “I love you, Tony. And I won’t leave you. If they separate us, I will find you. You know that I will.”

Of the fears Tony was grappling with, that was a big one, all the more menacing in how completely intractable it felt when he didn't even know what mountain he would have to move to begin to find Steve right now, but--it was nice to hear, Tony could try to narrow his focus, it was nice to hear and he did his best to return the sentiment by shifting his hold around Jon to curl his fingers into his hair and keep him steady for a peppering of kisses to his crown. Nuzzling there and trying his best to believe Jon did satisfy the gnawing dread of the pit Tony could feel gasping in his chest, rent open by an impending loneliness and starving, Jon's assurance putting up a scaffold against a complete collapse. That fear of his ever demanding sobriety felt sickly selfish, but so was wanting to have Steve or Jon here, Tony realized, when they could have been delivered safely home. Not wanting either of them to be gone was in direct conflict with not wishing this on either of them, and Tony didn't want to directly confront which one was more true.

"Tell me about your friend," he stumbled into, realizing how vague that sounded as it came out, like he had someone specific in mind that Jon should have been able to intuit. He hadn't really said anyone specific earlier, just that his behaviour had effected several people that he regretted. "Your best friend," Tony tried to clarify, which wasn't exactly what he had meant in the first place, because he didn't know who he would call his best friend and had the impression that this would be embarrassing to admit to Steve or anyone else. It would get Jon to talk, anyway.

Were the affections bestowed upon him that moment tied to different circumstances than Tony having an anxious breakdown, then Jon could and would have enjoyed them. But he can't not notice the man's balancing act between a horrendous meltdown and just barely holding himself together. And he can understand those fears. Jon, also, doesn't want to lose Tony.

With his own arms around Tony as best as possible, shoved under that cape to let his fingers run small, soothing circles across Tony's lower back, Jon finds himself considering the question left to him.

His... Best friend. Now there is a concept, isn't it. He takes a deep breath before he starts talking.

"Friends were never something I have had in abundance. Social interactions, social connections, those were simply never something I had much interest in. And after finishing university, I didn't maintain any meaningful contact with people I used to at least talk to every once in a while. I had a job, I had a place to stay and it never really occurred to me that heading out and meeting people should be something for me to have an interest in. And your coworkers usually aren't people you consider friends. At least I didn't."

"Tim... Didn't share that mentality. An outgoing extrovert that would spent hours chatting and flirting with whoever crossed his path. Somehow he still did his job as a researcher for the Institute well enough and only ever got in trouble for minor offenses. When I joined as a researcher myself, he- He decided we would be friends. Because he was friends with everyone and by no means would he endure having some moody little recluse spend his lunch in peace and quiet by himself to read a book. Instead I had him invade my personal space whenever he saw a chance and he wouldn't stop bothering me to join him and some other coworkers at the pub after work. I did my best to genuinely hate those evenings, but even though I hardly engaged with most of the people he dragged along, it was tolerable. I even enjoyed it at times. At that time we may have been actual friends. He looked out for me, made sure I went home on time and got some sleep and I made sure he didn't overdo whatever shenanigans he got into his head."

And that's where Jon stops. No need to wrap a perfectly normal story up with it ending with both of them down in the Archives and blowing up an evil circus. An explosion only one of them survived. Tony may recall parts of that from their time in the tunnels anyway.

Tony could piece it together. How strongly Jon had seemed to react to Tony in particular--and the emotional slip up that had him calling Tony by his friend's name certainly helped--made a lot more sense as he described the guy. The actual details of what had happened to him were still fuzzy, but obviously traumatic enough that Tony didn't question where Jon chose to leave the description. Half way through it, the elevator had slid to a stop, rousing Tony out of his already fretful attempt to recharge in Jon's warmth, eyes half-shuttered in the steady drone of Jon's voice and pattern he could measure against his back. By then, at least, as Tony nudged Jon on to lead the way to his planned destination, he had steadied enough to utilize reliable code with only some of the usual edge filed off, "You do have a type." Jon had given him plenty of pieces.

Before Jon could start sputtering his defence and trying to insist Tim wasn't who he had taken his frustrations out on, as he had described it, Tony continued, "He sounds like he was good for you. Stubborn bastard." That could have meant either of them. It took Tony another second to come back around to why he had asked in the first place, the immediate awareness that Jon had already lost this person marring the clarity of purpose, but the Agrii's technology had proven that it wasn't actually as much of a hurdle to reach through time. It did still make it a slightly different question when Tony asked, "Would you want him here?" Steve was still alive and fine, as far as Tony knew, but if this could be an opportunity to see Clint, or Thor, or Scott--any of them again, and maybe bring them back, that answer did feel very easy.

Jon takes the nudge and shifts enough to allow Tony to reassume his place over Jon's shoulder. Any protest he may have regarding Tony calling him out for his type remain effectively silenced by Tony's follow-up comment that also serves to add a barely notable streak of pink to Jon's cheeks.

"I... I thin I would like to give him that chance." He answers the actual question while leading Tony forward out of the elevator and across the wide plaza it has opened up to. To him being pulled to Temba still feels like a chance to get away from the mess that is the Earth as he has come to know it. Jon frowns. "....under certain requirements: I wouldn't want him to be from- Back then. Maybe hours before we blow up the circus. It.... It's fine if he hates me. I, I deserve that. Also..." And Jon lowers his voice, eyes falling down to the ground before them as they walk. "I would also want them to bring in his brother. So he can see him again. Tell him what we're about to do. That he will be avenged. Give them a chance to... To just... iunno. Be brothers?"

It wouldn't be Tim's forgiveness Jon wants. But he wouldn't mind Tim having the same chance Jon has found for himself in Temba.

What Jon meant by 'chance' wasn't immediately clear; it could have been 'chance to be alive', which would have been the frustrating answer to Tony. The conditions that Jon had were more illuminating; 'chance away from a bad situation'. So many people in Temba had a similar story, darkness that they carried around with them that made being in the deserted city seem like a relief.

Tony wasn't sure the same pattern applied to himself. The more he talked to anyone here, the more he was convinced he was that darkness and the relief was felt on Earth.

"I shot my friend into space," he said abruptly. It was supposed to be commiseration, to show Jon that he knew very well what it meant to deserve the ire of someone he had betrayed, because he knew he would have hated if someone tried to convince him he didn't deserve it. "I was given a choice, and I chose to trick him onto a ship and send him into uncharted space where he couldn't ever contact Earth again." If Tony could bring Bruce to Temba and not do that, if that meant he was given the chance to do it all over again, he knew very profoundly now that he would have made a different choice. He hoped he didn't really have to say that part out loud for Jon to figure it out.

Yeah, Tony probably wanted Steve here more than he wouldn't wish it on him, and maybe that impulse wasn't entirely selfishly motivated so it was easier to confront that about himself. After all, this place, this weird circumstance, had given that Steve a chance, too. "He--Steve, he told me--..." Definitely did not make it easier to talk about, though. Tony wavered again, searching everywhere else for some stability, a pattern to trace, a straight line, even, digging a knuckle painfully into the centre of his chest.

"Into space..." Jon repeats that part, impressed. "Wow." And after a moment: "Did it... Fix? Whatever the problem was that has led to that decision?" Because Jon doesn't believe Tony has made such a decision lightly. He has come to know the man well enough by now to be able to picture the inner conflict well enough. Tony cares for his friends. A lot. If there had been another solution, he certainly would have found it.

The stammered mention of Steve has Jon wrap one arm around Tony's middle just before they reach the gate to a massive, dome-like structure. And while it has gotten dark outside already, the moment they step through that gate they find themselves in a wide, well cared-for park complete with a picturesque lake and an open sky projected above, perpetually set to a soft sunset.

That was actually a very complicated question for an incredibly easy answer, making Tony hesitate as he considered what had actually been fixed, but eventually still provided, "It's not a problem anymore." That was how he had justified it in the first place, anyway.

As difficult as that choice and the guilt was, it wasn't nearly as immediate as Steve's departure, so it was easier to leave that thought unfinished for now as Tony took in the park and the light on the water. Why didn't the whole place look like this? It wasn't quite enough to detach Tony from Jon, but he wasn't dragging along so much, curious enough to guide them toward the lake. "What about you?" he asked once they were on the cushion of the grass, curling his hand back to stroke along Jon's neck in reassurance that the answer wasn't going to be an indictment either way. "Was it worth it? Tim'n'his brother, did it work?"

Jon simply nods once, frowning slightly, but not unfamiliar with such a pragmatic approach. "Hm. I see." Which doesn't mean he understands what sort of problem can only be fixed by launching someone into space. But at the same time is Tony's world one of super heroes. And those tend to come with their own brand of world-endangering problems.

Not trying to picture any of these problems in too much detail, Jon lets Tony direct their path towards the lake, tilting his head a little to glance up towards Tony at the question. Then he shakes his head. "I try to think Tim got what he had been looking for in the end at least. I never met his brother, but I listened to the statement Martin convinced him to record on the event that killed his brother and subsequently made him join the Institute. I was the one that requested him to be moved to the Archives as one of my assistants. It's my fault he got tangled up down there with the worst of it all. And after Prentiss, after... The worms," He raises a hand to gesture at his face and the cluttering of scars on it. "I got very paranoid after the attack. Didn't trust anyone I worked with but suspected everyone. I followed them, spied on their homes, searched their desks... Tim hated it especially and even more so after finding out he couldn't even quit the job. In the end, he blamed me for ruining his life, and... I can't say he was wrong."

A pause.

"He did die blowing up that wax museum and ending the Unknowing. He may not have forgiven me, but he saved the world and avenged his brother. I... survived." Maybe not entirely human anymore, but he survived. And in a way Jon still feels guilty for it.

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