jonathanparagon | (no subject)

(no subject)

"Andrew? You in here?"

Jonathan peers around the door without waiting for an answer, relaxing when he sees his friend. "Hey."

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"Yeah," he says. "I, I'll ask."

A beat.

"If nobody packed it that last day, though ... you know what happened to Sunnydale, right?"

"Yeah." He looks down. "But it might still be under there somewhere, even if it's in pieces. I'll dig it out if I have to."

"You mean we will." Quietly.

"We will," Jonathan echoes, then reaches across decisively to clasp Andrew's hand. There's a lot more in the gesture than he can voice in words.

He stretches his hand out to grasp Jonathan's, grips hard.

(His left hand. It's been a long time since he's consciously thought about the feel of the knife in it.)

Jonathan squeezes just as hard.

"Thank you. I thought you might... argue."

"I wanna talk to Weyland." Very steady, almost grim. "Before you go through with this. I want to be sure this isn't gonna be another bad deal like we got with Q."

Jonathan considers this for a long moment, studying Andrew's face then nods. "Okay. I don't think it is, Weyland isn't known as a trickster like Q, but... okay."

It isn't even trickery that he's afraid of, exactly. It's more ... missing something important. Something that should have been obvious.

There's always a price.

"I hope it works."

"So do I. But there's no reason to think it won't, that I can see, and..." He smiles very faintly. "I need to believe it will. Gotta stay positive, and all that."

"Yeah," he agrees, more firmly. "Absolutely."

And if it turns out there is some hidden price ... well.

He'll just have to do what he can to make sure he's the one who pays it, that's all.

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