[Leonardo focuses on washing his hands clean. Stalling a bit too obviously for anyone's good.]
My honesty isn't exactly helpful right now. [He says quietly in turn, drawing back from the sink now to actually look at the other man. The carefully constructed mask he's wearing is cracking already.
He presses his hand against his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment.] I know, I- don't have to take care of you. I just...
I know. You want to. [It's an easy guess.] You're seeking distractions, because you're worried about whether or not you can come back from what's coming.
[The storm brewing. Even now he's focusing on the little things- washing his hands, finding water, making tea. Fussing. Things that can wait.]
You will. I know you will, Leo. You'll step up when they need you. But you need this.
[He sinks further back into the edge of the sink, finding solace in the way it clacks against his shell. His hand trembles against his mouth. He forces himself up onto his feet, tall, strong. Commander. Even then, more of the facade is breaking down. His hand is still trembling at his side.] I don't know if I can come back from this, Caduceus.
[He forces himself to take a quick shallow breath, aware if he lets himself get relaxed in any capacity he'll crumble. If he was committed to avoiding the topic he would leave, yet... he's rooted in place.] This is... the one thing I never wanted.
[He knows it's not an accurate statement, either. Leonardo wouldn't have wanted any of the loss that endlessly piled onto his life. His father, his brothers and sister, his lover, all of his friends. Lives are without a quantifiable worth, those you love infinitely more so. One should not rank them.
He gets the intent, though. A child is meant to be a wholly different category. A parent is meant to care for their own. Siblings can be equals, especially as adults. But children. Children. They are your responsibility. They depend on you, trust you. Tragedies like this can make it feel as if you've betrayed that trust.
Caduceus steps closer, reaching a hand out.]
Trust in the rest of us, to take care of what needs doing. You've done enough. Grieve, Leonardo.
[Leonardo knows, as soon as Caduceus steps forward into his space, there isn't a damn thing he can do to stop this. There is no escape from the wave of grief that comes crashing down on him.
He can feel his resolve to hold on falling away.
He reaches out to take Caduceus hand in his own. Desperately needing the other man as a lifeline. He's starting to tremble.]
I was supposed to be dead, not him. It was never meant to be him. [He says weakly back. He's not entirely aware he's starting to sink onto the floor, his legs giving out on him.]
[Caduceus holds his hand, but with the other he reaches out to catch under Leonardo's arm, supporting his weight and gently easing him down as he drops, crouching with him. It's floor time, we're going down here together, and it's fine.]
I won't tell you if you're right or wrong. What is or isn't meant to be is not up to us. But be cautious of absolutes, one or the other. He wouldn't want your death in exchange, either.
He'd- he'd forgive me eventually. [It is a terrible defense, but Leonardo doesn't have a better argument. Tears sting at his eyes. There isn't any attempt to stop the wave of grief. Leonardo knows it is a futile thing.]
I'm not supposed to outlive him, even temporarily. [Comes out choked as he struggles to calm his heart rate.]
[It's a terrible argument and a terrible belief, but Caduceus can't debate it. It is a parent's belief. Someone who doesn't know this feeling cannot say it's wrong. But it's a common saying for good reason: a parent should never have to bury their child.
Caduceus has buried too many children, he's heard the sentiment. He's comforted the tears, heard this grief. It is infinite, all-consuming.]
I know, [he says instead.] I know. Little comfort it may be, but focus on that word. Temporary. He will be back. And he will need you, then.
I- gotta, I shouldn't- I can't do this. [He's struggling to speak, stumbling over his words. On the verge of incoherency. His hand holding onto Caduceus own is still trembling, but clinging to the other man.] I need, I need to be ready.
[Leonardo presses his free hand against his chest plates. Digging his metal knuckles into the aged keratin surface. Leo is to calm himself with a jolt of discomfort. Given the cracks there, it is an ill-thought gamble at best. Leonardo is desperate to keep control, even if it is a losing game.
The discomfort doesn't do much, as tears start to escape. A sob breaking through. He draws his fist back, intending to hit himself in the same spot. It is all just too much at once, and he isn't thinking clearly. He just needs this feeling crowding his chest out.]
[Caduceus lifts a hand, stunned at first, not expecting that. In retrospect however, he should have. He is no stranger to the self-destructive act of a desperate, grieving person. He's played this game. He's made this choice. The nature of the act may differ, however, the presumed need is...
His fingers curl, and as Leo moves to strike himself a second time, a pulse of energy and power shakes around them as he utters a simple word,]
Stop.
[And it's like a chain coils around Leo's arm, halting him in his tracks. Caduceus is not a leader, he is not accustomed to giving orders or directing people. Yet his tone is deep and intense, offering no quarter to deny it, as unyielding as any commander. He says stop, and Leo must.]
[It only lasts for a few seconds, just long enough for Caduceus to close the distance and curl his fingers gently around Leonardo's hand, trying to coax it down. He repeats, more gently this time, not a command but a plea.]
Stop.
[Stop hurting yourself. Stop denying this feeling. Stop trying to do what you don't need to, right now.]
[If there was any ability to resist, it isn't there. His hand is eerily still where it hangs in the air.
He doesn't fight the gentle guidance downwards. Later on, Leonardo might think about the spell. Here and now, he's just weeping. Tears soak into the fabric of his mask as he jerkily nods back.]
Mmmkay. I- [If there was anything else he wanted to say, its gone now. Choked in a pitiful mournful sound.
The pressure under his chest doesn't feel any better, but, he doesn't have it in him to fight Caduceus any longer.]
[Still gentle, Caduceus lowers the closed fist to the floor, then reaches up and tugs the mask off of Leonardo's head, if allowed. The scarf is next, bloody, discarded. Finally he wraps his arms around Leo and coaxes him closer, drawing him into a hug. Cry, you foolish man. Your body and heart both scream for it, anyone could see that.]
[Anyone else, he would've reared back from having his mask removed, even in this state. At best, Leonardo blinks a little at having his mask pulled off, surprised, but not against it. The wet fabric was already clinging to his skin uncomfortably.
The scarf going, just earns weak exhale. It could've been a laugh, but it never quite came to fruition. There isn't any fight left.
Leonardo reaches out to curl his arm around the other man, pressing his face into Caduceus shoulder. He sobs, a wretched ugly sound that's been a long time coming. Grief over Casey, old griefs that haven't been dealt with.]
[Caduceus will hold him for as long as it's needed, and perhaps a little longer, besides. This sort of thing is not resolved or soothed in a matter of minutes, nor a single tearful session. There's a reason he waited so long to push for this. Back at the lair, will all the care and guidance, healing and cleaning, all that was required to care for the kids, they needed to hold it together. This step was inevitable, but out of necessity, it had to wait. The time to break is now, away from younger eyes that might be frightened by adults who fail to hold it together. Or worse, take blame for one more round of grief.
But everyone must grieve. Whatever form it takes, it must be felt. You can bury a body but not this.
Eventually, he speaks softly, his hand stroking over the expanse of Leonardo's shell.]
I'm sorry that I couldn't bring him back sooner. But you will see him again. I promise you.
[Leonardo hiccups openly, trying to vaguely catch his breath. The turtle loathes this feeling. Loathes everything that has happened. All he wants is his son back. He wants that illusion of safety they had built. He had believed so wholeheartedly in how safe things were.
Now the world felt jagged and distorted again. Like he needed to be on edge. He was an idiot, a fool, a ridiculous child for letting himself believe. Safety was not for him. Not for his family. The realization is another heavy weight bearing down on him.
The realization is surreal to have in contrast to the hug he's held in. The promise of safety and comfort Caduceus offers him is a balm he needs. A shelter he hasn't had in a very long time. Someone who sees him.
How long until this is shattered like everything else? How long until Casey is ripped away from him forever?
He manages to find his voice again. It isn't particularly strong at the moment.]
Not your fault, Cad. [He swallows thickly, trying to choke back tears. The turtle is trying to believe the thought. Desperate to hold onto something.] He'll- he'll be back soon.
[He's not one to accept fault where he shouldn't, usually. Fate will do as fate wishes, and there are always lives that cannot be saved. He can't be everyone's miracle, and such an ask would be too much for any mortal. There are plenty of prayers that go unanswered by even gods.
Still, it's... difficult to not feel it. The guilt of failure. He's not sure if the failed spell had caused Casey's body to vanish like that, or if it had been an issue of bad timing. He doesn't know whether or not waiting and freeing his soul from that monster's grasp first might have brought him safely back. There are too many unknowns.
He dislikes that all they can do now is wait. A stronger cleric might have been able to bring someone back from dust. He needs a body, and now that body is gone. He should have cast a spell to preserve it first, or...
Well. Little to be done about it, now, except comfort in the aftermath. Regrets change nothing.]
He will. Believe in him. He'll come home, and you'll be there for him. You can pull yourself back together then. You don't have to for a moment before.
[Leonardo rubs at his bare face, the warmth of his own palm making his sore eyes hurt a little less. If just for now.
He lets his hand drop away for the moment. His voice croaks, still coming out small and fragile sounding.]
How- [He takes in a breath, trying to get his voice back.] How is... how is everything ever going to be safe again? How can I pull myself back together when I can't even protect him?
[Caduceus is quiet at that for a long moment, debating how he might answer. It's too complicated a subject to rush. He makes a low, thoughtful noise.]
The illusion of complete safety doesn't belong in this world. I don't know of one where it might. You went from one extreme to another, a place of constant peril to one of seemingly persistent peace, so you haven't yet found a balance. You will. And I wholeheartedly believe that you will find your strength again the moment he needs you. One perceived failure does not a lifetime make.
[He doesn't see Leonardo's inability to protect Casey as a failure - he simply wasn't there, and he can't be expected to always be near enough to his kid to prevent every harm, that isn't a life - but he can imagine Leonardo seeing it as one. Sometimes you have to meet people where they're at.]
cw: implied suicidal ideation in narration, grief, PTSD
[The time gives the turtle a moment to try and catch his breath. A chance to keep winding himself down from the crying jag.
Leonardo is of two minds. Logically, he understands nowhere is truly safe and peaceful without problems. Emotionally, he desperately wants that illusion back. It was so peaceful to believe in that lie.
He can't have that lie back. He never will have it again.
Leonardo releases a shaky exhale, wishing he could just stop for a while. If he could just stop existing entirely. Guilt and grief weigh heavily on the man. Carrying decades of grief on his shoulders and failing the one person he wanted to protect most only added to the feeling.]
I liked that illusion, when I had it. I dunno what I'm going to do without it. [He admits somewhat tiredly in turn. He isn't in the throes of grief enough to hurt himself physically, but emotionally he's unable to settle anywhere.]
You're right, I'll- [He takes a breath, seeming to try and steady his nerves.] When he's here, I'll be together for him. I'll get up and keep going. It's what I always do.
Re: cw: implied suicidal ideation in narration, grief, PTSD
It's more than that, Leonardo. It isn't merely an obligation to be strong for him.
[He draws the other back a bit, hands on his shoulders, to look Leo in the eye. There is compassion in his expression, a deep sympathy, but certainty as well.]
Think of the joy his life brings you. The new memories you will continue to earn together. You thrive as a father, just as he does as your son. You'll find your way again, together. You'll get up and keep going, together. Both of you.
[The turtle sniffles a little, raising a hand to wipe at his eyes shakily. Leonardo is quiet, taking in the sentiment. Trying to let that overpower the crushing weight of everything else.
He tries to soften the mood, even if it doesn't quite land.] Always know what to say, huh?
[A few more tears escape, rolling down his wet cheeks, plinking onto the floor.] That is... a lot better way to approach it. Better than being the war horse that keeps getting up. I don't want Casey to think- I'm just forcing myself. Never for him.
You have, unfortunately, stumbled into my specialty.
[He's literally a funeral director and grief counsellor, on top of the whole healer-and-reviver-of-occasional-dead business. This is his entire wheelhouse, and he is uniquely qualified.
He shifts a bit to sit next to Leonardo instead of in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, and curves his arm around the man.]
He won't need you to be a commander or a soldier for him. He may not even need you to be that strong. He'll need your love, your comfort, your understanding. I can't imagine that to be anything you'll have to force.
[Leonardo releases a slow breath, leaning heavily into Caduceus. The turtle is quiet as the other man speaks.]
Love I can always do. That's always easy to give Casey. [If there is one thing that can be said for Leonardo, it is his love for his son. For his family. There is a boundless love and dedication there.] I'd do anything for him.
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My honesty isn't exactly helpful right now. [He says quietly in turn, drawing back from the sink now to actually look at the other man. The carefully constructed mask he's wearing is cracking already.
He presses his hand against his mouth, closing his eyes for a moment.] I know, I- don't have to take care of you. I just...
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[The storm brewing. Even now he's focusing on the little things- washing his hands, finding water, making tea. Fussing. Things that can wait.]
You will. I know you will, Leo. You'll step up when they need you. But you need this.
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[He forces himself to take a quick shallow breath, aware if he lets himself get relaxed in any capacity he'll crumble. If he was committed to avoiding the topic he would leave, yet... he's rooted in place.] This is... the one thing I never wanted.
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[He knows it's not an accurate statement, either. Leonardo wouldn't have wanted any of the loss that endlessly piled onto his life. His father, his brothers and sister, his lover, all of his friends. Lives are without a quantifiable worth, those you love infinitely more so. One should not rank them.
He gets the intent, though. A child is meant to be a wholly different category. A parent is meant to care for their own. Siblings can be equals, especially as adults. But children. Children. They are your responsibility. They depend on you, trust you. Tragedies like this can make it feel as if you've betrayed that trust.
Caduceus steps closer, reaching a hand out.]
Trust in the rest of us, to take care of what needs doing. You've done enough. Grieve, Leonardo.
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He can feel his resolve to hold on falling away.
He reaches out to take Caduceus hand in his own. Desperately needing the other man as a lifeline. He's starting to tremble.]
I was supposed to be dead, not him. It was never meant to be him. [He says weakly back. He's not entirely aware he's starting to sink onto the floor, his legs giving out on him.]
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I won't tell you if you're right or wrong. What is or isn't meant to be is not up to us. But be cautious of absolutes, one or the other. He wouldn't want your death in exchange, either.
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I'm not supposed to outlive him, even temporarily. [Comes out choked as he struggles to calm his heart rate.]
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Caduceus has buried too many children, he's heard the sentiment. He's comforted the tears, heard this grief. It is infinite, all-consuming.]
I know, [he says instead.] I know. Little comfort it may be, but focus on that word. Temporary. He will be back. And he will need you, then.
cw: self harm, grief, ptsd
[Leonardo presses his free hand against his chest plates. Digging his metal knuckles into the aged keratin surface. Leo is to calm himself with a jolt of discomfort. Given the cracks there, it is an ill-thought gamble at best. Leonardo is desperate to keep control, even if it is a losing game.
The discomfort doesn't do much, as tears start to escape. A sob breaking through. He draws his fist back, intending to hit himself in the same spot. It is all just too much at once, and he isn't thinking clearly. He just needs this feeling crowding his chest out.]
Re: cw: self harm, grief, ptsd 1/2
His fingers curl, and as Leo moves to strike himself a second time, a pulse of energy and power shakes around them as he utters a simple word,]
Stop.
[And it's like a chain coils around Leo's arm, halting him in his tracks. Caduceus is not a leader, he is not accustomed to giving orders or directing people. Yet his tone is deep and intense, offering no quarter to deny it, as unyielding as any commander. He says stop, and Leo must.]
Re: cw: self harm, grief, ptsd
Stop.
[Stop hurting yourself. Stop denying this feeling. Stop trying to do what you don't need to, right now.]
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He doesn't fight the gentle guidance downwards. Later on, Leonardo might think about the spell. Here and now, he's just weeping. Tears soak into the fabric of his mask as he jerkily nods back.]
Mmmkay. I- [If there was anything else he wanted to say, its gone now. Choked in a pitiful mournful sound.
The pressure under his chest doesn't feel any better, but, he doesn't have it in him to fight Caduceus any longer.]
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The scarf going, just earns weak exhale. It could've been a laugh, but it never quite came to fruition. There isn't any fight left.
Leonardo reaches out to curl his arm around the other man, pressing his face into Caduceus shoulder. He sobs, a wretched ugly sound that's been a long time coming. Grief over Casey, old griefs that haven't been dealt with.]
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But everyone must grieve. Whatever form it takes, it must be felt. You can bury a body but not this.
Eventually, he speaks softly, his hand stroking over the expanse of Leonardo's shell.]
I'm sorry that I couldn't bring him back sooner. But you will see him again. I promise you.
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Now the world felt jagged and distorted again. Like he needed to be on edge. He was an idiot, a fool, a ridiculous child for letting himself believe. Safety was not for him. Not for his family. The realization is another heavy weight bearing down on him.
The realization is surreal to have in contrast to the hug he's held in. The promise of safety and comfort Caduceus offers him is a balm he needs. A shelter he hasn't had in a very long time. Someone who sees him.
How long until this is shattered like everything else? How long until Casey is ripped away from him forever?
He manages to find his voice again. It isn't particularly strong at the moment.]
Not your fault, Cad. [He swallows thickly, trying to choke back tears. The turtle is trying to believe the thought. Desperate to hold onto something.] He'll- he'll be back soon.
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Still, it's... difficult to not feel it. The guilt of failure. He's not sure if the failed spell had caused Casey's body to vanish like that, or if it had been an issue of bad timing. He doesn't know whether or not waiting and freeing his soul from that monster's grasp first might have brought him safely back. There are too many unknowns.
He dislikes that all they can do now is wait. A stronger cleric might have been able to bring someone back from dust. He needs a body, and now that body is gone. He should have cast a spell to preserve it first, or...
Well. Little to be done about it, now, except comfort in the aftermath. Regrets change nothing.]
He will. Believe in him. He'll come home, and you'll be there for him. You can pull yourself back together then. You don't have to for a moment before.
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He lets his hand drop away for the moment. His voice croaks, still coming out small and fragile sounding.]
How- [He takes in a breath, trying to get his voice back.] How is... how is everything ever going to be safe again? How can I pull myself back together when I can't even protect him?
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The illusion of complete safety doesn't belong in this world. I don't know of one where it might. You went from one extreme to another, a place of constant peril to one of seemingly persistent peace, so you haven't yet found a balance. You will. And I wholeheartedly believe that you will find your strength again the moment he needs you. One perceived failure does not a lifetime make.
[He doesn't see Leonardo's inability to protect Casey as a failure - he simply wasn't there, and he can't be expected to always be near enough to his kid to prevent every harm, that isn't a life - but he can imagine Leonardo seeing it as one. Sometimes you have to meet people where they're at.]
cw: implied suicidal ideation in narration, grief, PTSD
Leonardo is of two minds. Logically, he understands nowhere is truly safe and peaceful without problems. Emotionally, he desperately wants that illusion back. It was so peaceful to believe in that lie.
He can't have that lie back. He never will have it again.
Leonardo releases a shaky exhale, wishing he could just stop for a while. If he could just stop existing entirely. Guilt and grief weigh heavily on the man. Carrying decades of grief on his shoulders and failing the one person he wanted to protect most only added to the feeling.]
I liked that illusion, when I had it. I dunno what I'm going to do without it. [He admits somewhat tiredly in turn. He isn't in the throes of grief enough to hurt himself physically, but emotionally he's unable to settle anywhere.]
You're right, I'll- [He takes a breath, seeming to try and steady his nerves.] When he's here, I'll be together for him. I'll get up and keep going. It's what I always do.
Re: cw: implied suicidal ideation in narration, grief, PTSD
[He draws the other back a bit, hands on his shoulders, to look Leo in the eye. There is compassion in his expression, a deep sympathy, but certainty as well.]
Think of the joy his life brings you. The new memories you will continue to earn together. You thrive as a father, just as he does as your son. You'll find your way again, together. You'll get up and keep going, together. Both of you.
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He tries to soften the mood, even if it doesn't quite land.] Always know what to say, huh?
[A few more tears escape, rolling down his wet cheeks, plinking onto the floor.] That is... a lot better way to approach it. Better than being the war horse that keeps getting up. I don't want Casey to think- I'm just forcing myself. Never for him.
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[He's literally a funeral director and grief counsellor, on top of the whole healer-and-reviver-of-occasional-dead business. This is his entire wheelhouse, and he is uniquely qualified.
He shifts a bit to sit next to Leonardo instead of in front of him, shoulder to shoulder, and curves his arm around the man.]
He won't need you to be a commander or a soldier for him. He may not even need you to be that strong. He'll need your love, your comfort, your understanding. I can't imagine that to be anything you'll have to force.
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[Leonardo releases a slow breath, leaning heavily into Caduceus. The turtle is quiet as the other man speaks.]
Love I can always do. That's always easy to give Casey. [If there is one thing that can be said for Leonardo, it is his love for his son. For his family. There is a boundless love and dedication there.] I'd do anything for him.
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I know. And he knows it, too. Love is the most important part, so as long as you hold on to that, you'll be alright.
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