1964-12-08 - Metaphysical Tumor
Summary: Lamont stops Lindon from having one of his episodes.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
lamont lindon 

Lindon stands over his desk in the library, rustling through papers, muttering under his breath. A frenetic energy pours off of him. Sweat beads his brow, and there's a feverish look in his eyes. The kittens go ignored, proof positive there's something wrong.

Things have been odd for Lamont - an incident with Strange that left him shaken, and that opal ring he always wears gone. He comes back from some errand….and heads straight to Lin, not even bothering to remove his coat, though his hat is hung in the hallway. "Love,"he says, softly. "What's wrong?"

"Skrull," Lindon says. "There has to be more about them. I have to find out more." He's not one to usually get too excited by the news, even bad news. Certainly not enough to work himself into such a state. He's wild-eyed, on the brink of a vision. "I can feel the revelation," he murmurs. "Where they are, who they are…" He looks up at Lamont, and it takes a moment to focus on him. "I can't think," he says. "Help me think, love." Puck rubs against Lamont's legs and mews. Help his human, human!

That's enough to make his breath hiss in, an indrawn gasp. And he comes over to Lindon in a few hasty strides, drawing off his gloves and dropping them on the desk. Then he's touching Lindon with a bare palm. He's rarely any good at piercing the whirlwind of confused thoughts, but….he can offer steadiness, strength. A fixed point in the midst of all that. "«I'm here,»" he says, with both mind and voice.

Even if the words are lost in the maelstrom, Lamont's touch causes Lindon to gasp, and his focus increases. "Kent." he murmurs. He lays off pawing through his notes and grips Lamont's arms. "I can't find my way back. It hurts." No doubt he's developing a mystic level migraine. Puck mews again and rubs against Lindon's legs. He's here, human! Lindon starts to tremble. The flow of information is disrupted. It's an in.

He wraps Lindon in his arms, leans his cheek against Lin's. There's the coolness of his skin, the barest brush of stubble. He's forgotten about their guest, in his haste….drawing Lindon back with him until they stumble into a seat on the couch. "«Here I am. Listen to my voice. Heed me. Let me guide you.»" There's that weight of mystic command in both voice and mind, but in its gentlest manifestation, the bond between them brought into prominence.

There is the bond between mystic and relic, and it is for Lamont to command him on a level that defies conscious thought. He starts to breathe more steadily. His glassy eyes see into the here and now. "Kent," he whispers again. "My Kent." My wizard. His shoulders relax, and he exhales slowly. "I'm a little dizzy," he says in a small voice.

A ragged and dark-hearted sorcerer, but his. He nuzzles unashamedly into Lindon's hair. "I imagine you are, my dear," he says, still holding Lin to him, breath warm against the relic's temple. "Here, lie down on the couch." Reluctantly, he releases Lin to let him recline, before going for the decanter on the sideboard. This is an occasion where a slug of whiskey will help.

Lindon wraps his arms around Lamont and hugs him close. "I was losing myself," he says, almost apologetically, and he goes over to the couch to lie down. Immediately Puck jumps on his chest and noses at his chin. Then he starts to purr. The other two mew and circle around him. Athena jumps up on the arm of the chair and licks his hair. Pye winds around Lamont's legs. "You brought me back," Lindon says.

"Yes," he says. Monty's finally remembered to push shut the library's doors. He brings the glass to Lindon, sits down beside him, on the edge of that absurd Victorian couch, a plush and dark wood monstrosity big enough to let men as tall as they are recline fully. "We are bound, I will always be your anchor," he notes, stroking that dark hair back from Lin's brow.

Lindon sits up to take a sip, careful not to disturb Puck who has settled on his stomach. He closes his eyes and sighs. Booze is just the thing. "I love you, Kent," he murmurs, and he smiles weakly. "My hero. I was so close, though, to knowing more about the Skrull. Think of how many lives could be saved." Not that he looks regretful about being brought back from that.

Kent, for his part, insinuates himself against the couch back so now Lindon can lean against him. "Worth knowing, and valuable, but not if it harms you, makes you lose yourself." Of course he's biased, but…..how could he not be? "We might try again later, but in a more controlled way…."

Lindon does so, his head resting on Kent's shoulder. "At the very least, I want to make sure you're here to take care of me." He takes another drink, then sighs. "Ugh, that was a close call. Aren't we a pair? What would I do without you?" The hand not holding the class settles on Puck's head to scritch him. He purrs and purrs. Then he gives Athena a little petting. Pye jumps up on him to get in on the action. "At least I know I'm well-loved," he says with a small laugh.

"I know I'd be far more miserable without you," he says, bluntly. "I've felt very hollow for years. But you changed all that," He kisses Lindon on the temple. "I….I will do my best to help you. You know, I bet Strange could help me learn how to better anchor you, when you do that."

"You've already come so far," Lindon murmurs. "I wasn't past the point of no return, but when we first met, I don't know that you could have brought me back." He leans into the kiss, his eyes lidding. "You did it like we do this all the time," he says. He lays off petting the cats so he can take Lamont's hand. "I chose well."

Lamont's smile is small, but there's that glow to it. "The bond strengthens over time. The fact that we're lovers helps, too. It will only get better, that's my hope."

"Maybe in the future we can have safe visions," Lindon says. "They could be useful without doing me harm or taking my memory. If they would just play within the lines instead of tearing my mind apart." He shudders and curls closer. It was a close call to one of his most dreaded fears.

"Precisely. Mind magic is my talent….and Strange can help me," he says, arms around Lin. Bringing his legs up so they're lying together along the couch. "It's an amazing thing, but not if it destroys you in the process."

Lindon nods his agreement. He's quiet a moment, then said, "I told him that, should anything happen to you — God forbid — that I would come to him. Into his custodianship. It never need happen because you'll be with me for our entire lives. But there is that added security, love. Just in case."

Silent a little, in turn. "Good. I hope it will never come to that, but….if it does, there's no one else I'd trust to take care of you. I'm so glad he's an active ally."

"A lot can happen when you don't have a plan," Lindon murmurs. "With what might be coming, with Hargrove…" He shudders. Too many things can go wrong, and he plays out each one in his mind. "It was safer to have a backup, and he is the only other one I trust." He smiles a little and says, "I don't see myself having a crush on him, though."

The quality of the silence changes, then. Embarassment has entered the room and hovers like an awkward third person. "I do see myself that way," he admits, finally, looking into the embers of the fire, with a refusal to meet Lin's eyes directly.

Lindon laughs softly. "Kent," he says. "I might have known." He gives his hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, I won't tell him. Honestly, my dear, you're all the wizard I can handle. When I see him, all I see is you, because you're his student, and you're often on my mind."

Lamont finally looks back at him, grins sheepishly. "Good. I think he suspects, a little, but….I try not to act like an utter fool around him. Shall we go eat, have some wine? Whiskey's all very well for having a sudden shock, but…."

"But food will help anchor me," Lindon says. He sits up, then he cups Lamont's cheek in his palm, and he smiles. "I'm sure you conduct yourself like a consummate professional. What do you have in mind for lunch, my dear?" He scoops Puck off his lap, which gets a whine from the kitten.

"I was thinking roast beef sandwiches," he allows. That grin is crooked. "I try," he says, as he kisses Lindon's hand. "But….well, it's difficult, sometimes."

Lindon soothes the kitten with a wordless murmur, then sets him down. Then he gets to his feet unsteadily. "That sounds really good. Perhaps some of Strange's tea later. I know I'm going to have a wretched headache in about an hour." He winces, already getting a few twinges in his temples. "I wish I had at least gotten something useful. A few notes." Except when he puts pen to paper, it's too late.

Lamont pulls a face in sympathy. "I'll make some. I've got ice in the freezer for you," he adds. "Next….maybe I can be with you. Listening in, as it were. Having another perspective might help for catching what you're looking for."

"It's like being hit with a boulder the size of a house, and in its core is what you're looking for, and you just have to let it hit you again and again, shattering against you until you get to the middle." He winces, rubbing his temples. The kittens follow them, tails straight in the air. Trips to the kitchen sometimes yield goodies.

"No wonder you get headaches," he says, pausing in the main bathroom to grab a rubber icebag from beneath the sink. "I….maybe I can help by taking some of the shock."

"I don't want you to go through that," Lindon says. "I wouldn't wish it on my enemy." He laughs a little. "We'd both be staggering about moaning." He laughs a little, then winces. "There are probably a lot of things we can figure out in time. I've honestly been lucky it's been so long since I've had an episode."

HE nods. "I'm sure not. But….I'm used to magical battles, struggles of the will," he notes, as he precedes them into the kitchen. Clean as ever - even on the days when the housekeeper isn't here, he straightens up after them. The ice bag is filled, and he hands it off, befoe putting the kettle on.

Lindon takes the bag with a grateful nod and plies it to his head. Slipping into a chair, he tells the kittens, "Take it up with him," as they begin to circle and mew. Starving kittens. Oh, so starving. They've never been fed ever. "Kent, do we have cream for them?" The enabler.

Lindon gets a look over his shoulder. "Of course we do," he says, in the sweet tones of a man humoring his wife. "I buy extra." Once the water's heating, he pours out three saucers. Fattest familiars in New YOrk.

They are pretty round-bellied, it's true, and they each pick a saucer, except Puck who tries all three before settling upon the one that isn't occupied. Lap lap lap lap lap. "They're growing babies," he says in their defense. He watches them fondly, ice pressed to his head. "I wonder how much of it has to do with will," he says. "I think state of mind definitely has something to do with it, but it's like a magical brain tumor, this big foreign thing in my consciousness."

"I wonder, too," he says. Ice water for him, for now. The simile makes him wince a little bit. "It's a thing, it doesn't have volition of its own, one would think…"

"It's just something," Lindon agrees. "There's no consciousness to it. It doesn't have goals, it doesn't want things. It's just something too big for the space it's in, stressing the container. It doesn't mean to hurt me because it's got no independent mind with which to mean anything."

Lamont pauses. "I wonder…if we could find a place to put it. A pocket dimension that you have access to, could curate, but would relieve the stress on you. Being the Archive is something that happened to you. What if we recreated the ritual but with a different target? A librarian doesn't try to carry the entire library on his back, but he has the keys to the structure."

Lindon thinks about this inasmuch as his impending headache is going to let him think. He leans into the ice pack resting in his hand, his elbow on the table. "It might be worth asking Strange about," he says. "I'm leery of redoing the ritual, for obvious reason, but we're friends with the most powerful wizard in the world. Surely something should be possible. It's just that the margin for error isn't trivial."

"I know," he says, softly. "But there has to be something. Maybe some kind of more permanent magical bulwarking to give you the capacity to hold this without it hurting you." He bends to kiss Lindon on the brow, before turning to start the tea steeping. "But that's for later. I'll get you Tylenol, and you can lie down."

Lindon leans into the kiss. "Knowledge has a price," he says softly. "I don't know if there's any cosmic way of circumventing it. People have tried for as long as there have been people." He smiles a little, sadly, and leans back. "Tylenol," he agrees. "Then a lie down, then sandwiches?"

"But there hasn't been us, before. None of these have had a live subject with a mind of his own, and a sorcerer with the Sorcerer Supreme on his team," Lamont insists. "And sure, love. I'll have the food ready for when you get up."

Lindon gets up and gives Lamont a kiss. "I'll hold onto hope," he says gently. Then he goes to take his Tylenol and lie down. He'll wake up draped in kittens, but that is merely his lot in life, the price of pampering them silly.

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