Chapter 3 - The Recovery

Finally the amount of light from the outside was too great to ignore. Ian looked at the clock. 1 PM. Not too bad. The second day of Stahlhölle wouldn't even start for another hour, and there would only be minor and unknown bands at first.

Ian recognized a Nargaroth song playing at almost minimum volume. Herbstleyd, the full version. Jo was sitting awkwardly against the table on the opposite wall, cell phone close to her ear. The song was clearly an attempt to provide comfort. Ian remembered doing something similar himself, at least once.

"Morning," Ian said, aiming for minimum volume. His voice cracked. It was good there were no upcoming AGENT shows for the foreseeable future.

"Lesson learned. Don't try to outdrink WyvernForce," Jo replied at last.

"Don't be too hard on yourself. The opportunity is unlikely to repeat."

Jo stood up, and the discomfort was visible on her face. The hammer had to be pounding hard.

"Anything I can do? Like order some greasy and unhealthy food?"

Jo shook her head. "Not really."

"Take your time. There's no hurry."

The second and final day of Stahlhölle would be headlined by the legendary Mayhem, starting at 10 PM if the schedule didn't lag. This time it could not be missed. But anything else was strictly speaking optional.

"I know."

"You could come back here. I'll sing to you."

Jo smiled faintly. "Your voice is shot."

Nevertheless, she climbed next to Ian, using caution to avoid aggravating the headache. A somewhat absurd but understandable thought passed through Ian's mind. Had the whole point of taking up vocal duties in AGENT been to be better able to serenade her? He was also sure he'd done this before, but not at all sure when. At some another time, all these mysteries needed to be solved. But not right now.

The song choice was fairly self-evident. Manowar's Master of the Wind. Heart of Steel would have probably been just as suitable, but the purpose was to let Jo know that each hangover had its end, and then things would turn for the better. Knowing his vocal range would be limited right now, Ian started very low, both in pitch and in volume.

He got through the first verse.

But then, he found himself thinking all too much. In a flash, he experienced a much stronger sense of deja-vu. This had in fact happened before. He had been in a place unknown, devoid of hope, and Jo had helped him through it. In return, he had sung her this exact song. But though the gesture was kind, the hope contained in the lyrics had been fictional, or even imposture. It had not been the key to his eventual return. His doubts returned; of whether he was only an impostor who would be revealed in time. And most severely, what if he had in fact earned nothing of what he had right now. That he did not actually deserve to have Jo at his side, considering how his repeated mistakes had actually caused her to lose much, practically forcing her to take part in the Area 51 raid, whose potential future consequences still hung like a Damocles sword over their heads. He thought to have been over this specific line of thinking, but apparently still wasn't.

Combined, these thoughts made it impossible for Ian to sustain his voice. He shut his eyes, fighting off the emotion.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he managed to say.

The overload was so severe that Ian wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, but he could sense Jo shifting around on the bed until she was very close, hands on his shoulders.

"It's OK. I don't know what you're thinking exactly … but I can tell what I'm thinking. That even when I'm drinking and making Pac-Man noises to Lee of WyvernForce, deep down I remember that I've taken part in killing and other stuff I should have had no business living through. And yet I'm here. And you're with me. And we have the chance to shape our lives to anything we want. That's both terrifying and the best thing ever."

Not in a million years Ian could have put it any better than that. And Jo had done it under severe hangover. To be reminded that she was scared too was of course heart-rending in its own way. But she wasn't doubting. Ian didn't want to doubt either. He made a promise to himself to keep those words in mind. He also knew he had to thank Jo somehow, and turned to face her.

To Ian's surprise, the look on her face was uncertain. As if she was unsure if she had been getting through to him, or was on the right track at all.

None of that should be necessary. At least not around him. Ian took gentle hold of her head and closed the distance, until their lips met.

"Thanks, Jo. You made my day. It really should have been the other way around."

Next Ian pulled the blanket up and some time passed with them just sitting there close by. At least being a pillow was something Ian couldn't fail even now. He kept observing Jo's face, looking for signs of the hangover subsiding.

Finally Ash's (formerly known as Kanwulf) voice shrieked a final sustained howl from the cell phone speaker as the blast beat ended. Then Herbstleyd's main riff began again, quietly at first, until the synth orchestration and the second guitar joined in.

This sparked a new insight; Ian thought of something Jo hadn't covered yet.

"Remember, what I said of keeping things classified? There's a handful of people, with whom there's no secrets to keep. Like Erik. Those, we need to keep close. Meanwhile some like WyvernForce will never know what we've actually done. And it doesn't really matter. It's sort of a perpetual cover identity. But given enough time, it probably gets easier."

Jo seemed lost in thought for some seconds.

"Yeah. Exactly."

Now the only thing remaining was to (eventually) get ready for the second day of Stahlhölle. Judging from the brightness outside, it was going to be warm. But when Mayhem would play, it would already be darker. To get the proper atmosphere, hopefully also colder.