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[thursdays_angel]

[Anywhere from five minutes to five hours after this.]

Any good soldier knows how to stand sentry.

Or, in this case, sit sentry.

Castiel is sitting quietly in one of the bar’s straight-backed chairs. His hands rest on his thighs, his spine does not touch the chair back, and if he does blink it is intermittent enough for a casual observer to miss completely. He can hold this position for, at a conservative estimate, weeks.

Though it is unlikely that his charge will sleep for longer than a day.

The reason for Castiel’s pose is stretched out on the sofa beside him. Meg Ford had been teetering on the brink of exhaustion when she had come in this evening, and Castiel had helpfully nudged her over the edge into a sleep deep enough that not even the bustle of Milliways will disturb it. Meg will wake when her body has gotten the rest it needs.

Until then, Castiel will wait here.



[OOC: Not plot locked, but priority will be given to folks who know Meg. Meg herself is 100% out for the count, and will not be waking up during any of these threads.]

Comments

[themidnightson]

The pen in Edward's hand, a rather nice limited edition Mont Blanc original honoring Lorenzo de' Medici, snapped between his fingers as the only sign of a conhesive mental battle to remain seated past the first forty seconds after Meg's door had opened.



The rest of him wasn't moving. Not overtly.
The Angel was there. She was talking.
He was listening. To her words.
To the shambles of her mind.





Then it was gone.


And so was Edward from his chair.




"What did you do to her?"

It's very hard to tell what is enunciated more there.
The whole thing is closer to a snarl than words.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel looks up calmly at Edward.

It is odd. The momentary resemblance between father and son. But he chooses not to comment on it at this time.

"She needed to sleep," he says, levelly.

[themidnightson]

He'd seen the hand, felt that she'd felt a touch from the fingers, and then everything had shifted to the bare little the others around the room who'd glanced of hadn't that way, as Meg's conscious awareness dissolved instantly.

If having to rework his jaw for four very long seconds, ended up with the words -- "You could have asked her first." -- then maybe he's learned something from dealing with everything Bella through April until now, even if it's not by any shot lost of being temperamental.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel tilts his head, frowning.

"What purpose would that have served?"

Meg had needed rest, and had needed it as quickly as possible.

And without undue argument.

[themidnightson]

"She has the right to choose--"

Was supposed to have more words. He's not even certain if those ones, the ones that are and aren't his, and have been told to him so many times, can even matter. Especially when he finally looks down at her for first time.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel's answer is quiet. But there is the faint hint of something like thunder behind it.

"She was injured. And exhausted. And upset."

"Do you not think that perhaps choice, in this case, could have been a burden?"

Free will is a great and sacred gift. But it can also be a weight.

[themidnightson]

"That doesn't change the point."

Even if his tone might concede she looked it. He'd spent a lot of time in a hospital the last month, and she looked like she would have fit in perfectly. And she was Meg. Rational, but capable of stubbornness.

He was frowning slowly at sling on her arm.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel sees the direction of his gaze.

"She said that there was a car accident," he explains.

[themidnightson]

Edward nodded. There was a waver to the very certain stillness he was standing with, because of Meg's condition and not having to lie for Castiel's comfort, that shifted like a breeze might have crept across him. A movement stifled in infancy.

But he failed the second time it hit and he took a few steps closer, crouching down to look at her injuries, without his hands ever leaving his own knees.

[cutting_edgex23]

X, who was upstairs but a short time ago, pauses on her way toward the bar and veers in the direction of Castiel and Meg.

Blame the faint but present smell of blood.

"Castiel."

Beat.

"She is not okay?"

X worries. But Castiel does not seem to be -- not enough for it to be truly dangerous, so --

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel looks up, face largely impassive.

"Not entirely," he says.

The sling and the cut cheeks speak for themselves.

"She said that there was a car accident."

[cutting_edgex23]

"At home."

X's voice is flat.

"You do not know more?"

[thursdays_angel]

"She said that Alain has not yet woken up."

Castiel takes it as a matter of course that X will know who Alain is.

"She also said that her injuries are minor. But she was nearing exhaustion."

[cutting_edgex23]

"Because she was worried."

This X understands very well.

Then --

"He is not in a coma? Alain."

That would be problematic.

[thursdays_angel]

"Yes. She was."

It had been disconcerting to witness.

Castiel shakes his head slightly.

"I do not know."

"I asked Meg if he would wake up. She said she did not know. She was upset."

"I determined that she should sleep. I did not get further information."

[cutting_edgex23]

X considers that, head tilted very slightly.

Then --

"You could help him? If it were necessary."

It is important to know. For planning.

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel glances at Meg, and slowly shakes his head.

"I cannot leave Milliways, except to return to the Garrison," he says.

He looks X in the eye.

"And even if I could, I am forbidden to interfere."

[hear_the_voices]

Okay, Man in the Coat, this is weird even for you.

"What are you doing?

"Who's that lady?

"Is she okay?"

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel looks up.

And, after a moment's thought, decides to take the questions in order.

"I am waiting for her to wake up."

"This is Meg."

"She was in a car accident."

[hear_the_voices]

Anna looks around the bar.

"Where's the car?"

And how does a person have a car accident inside a building, anyway?

[thursdays_angel]

Castiel nods silently at the door that leads out of Milliways, to any number of other worlds.

"Canada."

That is his assumption.

[hear_the_voices]

"So . . . she had a car accident in Canada . . . and then came here and fell asleep?

"And you're watching her sleep."

Anna turns her attention to the woman on the couch for a moment.

And then says, in a loud whisper, "Why? Is she going to do something?"

[thursdays_angel]

"Yes."

Sometimes, it's just easier to go for the simple answer.

"Eventually," he adds, "she will wake up."

"You do not have to whisper. She will not wake up until she is rested."

[hear_the_voices]

"Oh," says Anna.

Anna looks very closely at the woman again.

"She's pretty.

"Is she going to sleep for a long time?"

[thursdays_angel]

"Several hours, most likely. Less than a day."

Not that long in the angelic scheme of things.

"Long enough for her to feel restored when she wakes up."