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“Does it get easier?”
Elias smiles sympathetically. “Yes. I find it does”.
“Not exactly sure that's a good thing…” Jon grumbles, half to himself on Elias’s sofa.
Elias lets out a near silent huff of a laugh. Just a slightly loud exhale, really. “No, possibly not”.
Jon is silent a moment longer and Elias elects to take the seat across from him, crossing his leg. He watches Jon clutch at the blanket in a desperate attempt at security.
“Is it worth it?” Jon asks again, quietly, avoiding Elias’s eyes.
Elias considers this. He had long ago prescribed to the ideal of ‘No cost too great’ when it came to acquiring his knowledge and power. He can remember the pain of losing his friends, sacrificing them like sheep and shunting the feelings of regret away. It's a question he likes to avoid, because so much of it relied on ‘if this works’ , and it was a pretty big if. The last Crown attempt had been a failure and even if it left him with extra tokens and abilities, could he say it was worth the loss?
He Knows Jon isn't sure what answer he wants. Neither will bring him comfort or ease his guilt. He wants his friends back. He wants normalcy. He wishes it all wasn't true, and feels no comfort in knowing more like Jonah had. He's not sure if Jon will ever trust him again. His desires aren't needed to finish the Crown, but it would be nice if he didn't have to fight the entire way there. And company might be nice.
“I don't know,” Elias offers. Jon looks up, momentarily meeting his eye in slight surprise before looking down again. He says nothing. “I lost much when I became the head of this institute. For me to say ‘Yes it is all worth it,’ is… oversimplification, I fear. Justification, because without it, I have come no further and toiled for nothing”. Elias looks out the window and Watches a bit. “Do I regret some actions? Sometimes; but I wouldn't change any of them, I think. I'd do it all again, if I could, I think”.
“But is it worth it?” and that little trickle of Compulsion is back, thrilling up his spine.
Elias closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of progress. He thinks of how far he's come and how far they both have to go. “I hope so,” he allows to whisper past his lips. It is a declaration of longing, several lifetimes of waiting and wanting and grasping at threads. “I hope so”.
There's a hollow place where his empathy once was, humanity drained out and away; siphoned off with lack of use. It did not serve him, and it would not in the future that he sought to create. Yet still...
Elias reached, closing the space between them. He watched as his Archivist flinched, drawing the scarred hand away with a wide-eyed, hunted look on his face. Elias waited patiently, attentive, as Jon slowly set his poorly bandaged hand in his; curiosity winning out over learned experience.
Elias smiles, unwrapping it and kissing his teeth in veiled appreciation. "My poor Archivist," he murmurs. Slowly, he unwraps the dirty, stained bandages.
Jon hisses through his teeth, flinching.
Elias pauses, glancing up. He watches Jon flush, Watches his thoughts grind to a sharp stop before whirling out of control with possibilities. They are frightened, confused little things that light fires and trample smaller, rational thoughts under their feet.
Elias allows the slight amusement to show itself in a mysterious little smile.
He leaves a moment, coming back to a slightly stunned little Archivist, cradling his bare, scabbed hand. Jon looks up to Elias's face, then down to the first aid kit, and flushes prettily.
"Th-That really won't be necessary-" Jon says, in what Elias is sure he thinks is commanding and airtight, but Elias waves it away with just a look. A simple raise of the brow and bland disbelief has it dying on Jon's tongue so he can retake the damaged hand.
Jon whimpers, hissing through his teeth as Elias wipes his hand clean with alcohol. He's being as gentle as he can, but lingers, memorizing the pained little noises that Jon lacks the practice to control. Elias thinks he sounds a bit like a bird chirping.
When he's done, he allows himself a moment to look. He Looks even closer, watching scar cells multiply and heal over blood and blistered tissue.
"Elias?"
Elias sighs with reverence and peace, slowly bringing the hand up, pressing a kiss to the palm and watching as Jon gasps, hissing in pain. A slight smile turns up the edge of his lips. Jon can't see it, but Elias knows he can feel it. Elias doesn't relish pain; he's never been one to revel in it like the Hunt's filthy mutts, or the Slaughter's petty little soldiers. He's hasn't particularly cared either way since he's elevated himself above most of humanity. Jon, though...
"Don't worry," Elias murmurs, eyes turning half lidded, "Soon, nothing will be able to hurt us anymore".
He watches Jon swallow and breathe. He is terrified, but Elias searches deep, and finds a small piece of Jon that longs for it. It clings to his reassurance with terror and a wistfulness that Elias still feels himself.