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Southern Sudan, Fall 2008
It's a pretty simple room -- bed in one corner, dresser in another, desk in the third and door to the hall in the fourth.
The bed is neatly made. There are toiletries arranged on one side of the dresser; the other side holds a row of paperbacks, spines lined up, flush and precise, between plain metal bookends. The middle of the dresser holds a carved wooden box.
The there's a laptop on the desk, speaker for an MP3 player, and a picture frame with two pictures -- a man, about forty, with brown hair and eyes and (improbably) a handlebar moustache. And a boy, nine or ten, with reddish brown hair and his mother's smile.
The only thing on the wall is a bulletin board, above the desk. It holds a few other photographs, a postcard view of Montreal, three to do lists, and slightly cryptic advice, You cannot worry about every sparrow.
Dr. Meghan Marriner has called this room home for almost a month now.
She's entering notes into the laptop, back to the closed door, Beethoven (the violin concerto) playing on the speakers.
It's been a long, long day.
The bed is neatly made. There are toiletries arranged on one side of the dresser; the other side holds a row of paperbacks, spines lined up, flush and precise, between plain metal bookends. The middle of the dresser holds a carved wooden box.
The there's a laptop on the desk, speaker for an MP3 player, and a picture frame with two pictures -- a man, about forty, with brown hair and eyes and (improbably) a handlebar moustache. And a boy, nine or ten, with reddish brown hair and his mother's smile.
The only thing on the wall is a bulletin board, above the desk. It holds a few other photographs, a postcard view of Montreal, three to do lists, and slightly cryptic advice, You cannot worry about every sparrow.
Dr. Meghan Marriner has called this room home for almost a month now.
She's entering notes into the laptop, back to the closed door, Beethoven (the violin concerto) playing on the speakers.
It's been a long, long day.
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"Well, there's that.
"I suspect Ed can track how difficult any given mission is based on how often I tell him to send more yarn."
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Everyone should have their own form of knitting.
"How long does this mission last for you?"
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"Do you know how long your mission will last this time, or does that all depend on the bearer of those capable hands?"
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He refrains from offering details. Lillith and seals and possible Hell on Earth are heavy burdens to place upon someone who is already working hard to preserve good in the world in her own way.
Castiel looks a bit rueful.
"I suspect a good deal of difficulty will be in convincing the owner of those hands that he is indeed capable."
"He is not as accepting as you are, I'm afraid."
Meg has rather spoiled Castiel for humans.
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He missed the months Meg was convinced she was insane and hallucinating, for one thing.
"Though I suspect whatever this is would test the limits of my acceptance."
What with the summoning angels to walk the earth again part and everything.
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His shoulders droop a little.
It's almost comical.
"It might. But you would be far less combative in your struggle to accept."
Really. Dean can be exhausting when it comes to trying to convince him to believe. And accept.
And to do what needs to be done.
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Meg can be pretty combative when she wants to.
"Whoever he is, and whatever exactly it is that you're asking him to do? It's a lot to ask of him, I'm sure. I tend to need time, with the big things, to think and process, and knit, before I can accept them. Maybe he does, too."
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He might be tempted. But even though bullets can't actually harm him, he'd prefer to avoid being shot again.
All the same, he nods.
"Time, unfortunately, is of the essence. But you make a valid point. I will be as patient as circumstances and my orders allow."
He shrugs a bit.
"I suppose it's worth remembering that Jacob is still well known to this day for wrestling with his angel."
Though, from the reports Castiel remembers from that time, Jacob had not wielded sarcasm with quite the same skill Dean possesses.
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Meg pauses again, and then smiles.
"If you forced to resort to wrestling, just make sure there's no one around to arrest you for it."
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Earth is not Milliways.
"I fear that any display of force would simply exacerbate the stubbornness."
"Though I have not entirely ruled it out."
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"Have you tried reverse psychology?"
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"I am not sure I know what that is."
Angels aren't much for psychology of the regular sort. Their minds differ enough from human minds to make the whole concept feel fairly foreign.
Reversing it?
That just sounds unduly complicated.
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"It doesn't always work, especially if the person you're talking to can figure out what you're trying to do."
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"It is possible that it might work with him."
"Though for now I think that honesty is perhaps the better policy."
For now. No need to give Dean more cause to distrust him if he can help it.
"I think a lot of the trouble comes from the fact that he wants more information than I am at liberty to give."
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Humans, with their complete free will, tend to require more in the way of answers.
"Some of the information, I simply do not have myself."
"Other times when I try to answer, he is dissatisfied with what I say."
"I told him the simple truth when I first met him 'in person' as it were. That God commanded that he be saved, and that He had work for him to do. He did not like that answer. I believe he still does not."
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"It is the truth."
Which can be a great and terrible thing. But Castiel could not have lied about it.
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"History . . . people who profess to be selected by God for work, and whether they truly is hardly my place to judge, but regardless . . . it's an awesome responsiblity, and they're the people history remembers as martyrs.
"If this person, whoever he is, isn't an idiot, he's aware of both those things.
"And that's a lot to ask of anyone. So perhaps his wanting slight more detailed answers isn't . . ."
Meg trails off and shrugs.
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"He is not a stranger to things that many humans would have a hard time believing in," he attempts to explain. "He has hunted and fought evil in a multitude of forms since he was a child."
"It is more that he does not believe that good things can happen to him. That he did not deserve to be saved. That he is not worthy of the responsibility."
Dean had not said any of those things to him directly. At least not out loud. But Castiel had managed to read it fairly easily.
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"They came around. They accepted in the end.
"Granted in once case it took a storm and a really big fish . . . "
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"Alas, whales are not in abundance as they once were."
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I hope that you are correct, in that he will 'come around.' Sooner rather than later. Until he learns to accept, he is going to prove very difficult."
And they don't have time for a long adjustment period.
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"Maybe . . . maybe it's as important for you to have faith in him as the other way around."
Meg smiles and shrugs.
"Or maybe he's just a stubborn S.O.B."
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"And I imagine that the stubbornness will prove to be an asset in the fight to come."
Castiel just wishes less of it was aimed his way at times.
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