empathicfault | IC Inbox

Hey. You okay?

I'm all right. Got a couple of things to work through now, but it could've been much worse.

Are you okay? You had your worst-case scenario playing out for you, or close to it.

I'm- yeah I'm not doing great. It'll be okay though. Not the actual end of the world, this time.

Things'll be okay. If it helps any, I'm just fine. No trauma, healed up immediately.

[ He's not sure if that's what Jesus needs to hear right now, but it probably couldn't hurt. ]

Really? Not even an emotional dent after I stabbed you in the head?

[ Will laughs- it's a surprised little chuckle. He switches to video and pushes back the hair on his head, showing off a 4-5 inch horizontal scar across the right side of his head. ]

It's not the first time. And you weren't planning to feed my brain to my former boss.

You were trying to be efficient and- I think- merciful. So that's already one up on life-threatening experiences.

[He was. He was trying to save the ship but there is also, always, the knowledge that no one would want to be a walker. You put your loved ones and your friends and your neighbors and everyone you ever knew down yourself and you make yourself be glad that it was your knife or your bullet or your own damn boot that did it.]

All right, I'll stop feeling guilty about it. If you let me bring you an apology basket of cookies or something.

Edited 2023-10-23 23:34 (UTC)

[ Will looks pleased. It's hard for people to not feel guilty over the things that happen here, but at least they can know intellectually a lot isn't their fault. ]

I might be a lot of things, but I'm definitely not someone who turns down cookies when they're offered. Thank you.

You getting a baking habit from Maggie or something? I've been seeing a lot more of that going around.

[ He's not complaining, that's for sure. ]

This is entirely her influence, yeah. Food has a lot of meaning back home though. Everything gets put into the group. I never got to give anything special to any one person, you know?

That makes a lot of sense. When food is scarce, it's one of the most precious things you could give.

I'm glad it's something you don't have to worry about here.

Is there anything here that could help ground you more? I'm unfortunately very familiar with recovering from hallucinatory experiences. I mostly used dogs and- well, attempted distance, when I could. The Barge is sadly lacking in distance.

[ If only that Port happened before this cursed sword insanity. ]

Any good guided meditations you know about? I used to love those. I meditate on my own but it's never quite the same.

I do know some, but I haven't found any of them in the library yet, unfortunately.

If you want, I could record my favorites for you? I already do them in person for Malcolm, so I have practice.

Yeah I'd like that. Thanks, Will.

Malcolm crawls into bed next to Will that night and curls up against him. Things have been slowly untangling in the couple of days since the sword was dealt with but the things that happened right before the sword thing have dominated his mental space a lot more than the things that happened during it.

Except maybe one.

"I called Shaw today," he admits to the outline of Will's face in the diffused light of simulated streetlamps below the window. "To apologize for being mean when I was telling her off."

Will has been doing what he personally can to keep himself distracted, because otherwise he would've broached that one thing Malcolm's been thinking about. And he knows he needs to give it time to settle. It's still difficult not to apologize or try to explain certain things.

It's easier when Malcolm is here with him, though. When they're close and warm together. Will can see Malcolm's face clearly, but he barely needs that to tell what's going on with him, now. "How did that go?" he asks, because he suspects it wasn't all that well.

She thinks I'm encouraging you to kill people and that totally justifies her telling I don't even know how many people that I'm dangerously unstable and needed intervention the day after the Avalon thing. People calling up and coming over telling me to let her do the Wardening when all I did was stay away from both of you and it was already hard without... that. ...She at least said if we were going to talk about it, you had to be there. Are you okay with meeting up with her after breakfast?

[ Will smiles and somewhat sleepily brushes some hair back away from Malcolm's face. ]

At least she's agreeing now. Yes, we can do that. Maybe we'll manage to get a thing or two straightened out. If we're lucky.

"Thank you," Malcolm tells him with gratitude and relief. "How are you doing? A lot happened in like a week."

"Of course," Will breathes out in response to Malcolm's thanks. He'd wanted to do this for them ages ago.

The question is harder to respond to. Malcolm can hear him taking in a big breath, as he thinks it over. "I think I'm still in shock, somewhat. I haven't started really analyzing what all of it meant. I almost wouldn't be surprised if we got hit by the next breach tomorrow."

It's easy to get back into that mode. "You? You...did better with the curse, or- at least, it seemed like you did. Are you all right?"

Malcolm’s fingers fidget with the seam of Will’s undershirt at his shoulder and then with an errant curl below his ear.

“I’m… glad we had instant healing. But I’m not… really upset with that stuff. It wasn’t personal like the stuff right before it with Shaw and her agents. Or. …Most of it wasn’t. I just…” His vision better adjusted now, he looks for Will’s eyes in the dark. “Do you think you’d be happier now, if he was here instead of me?” The question is curious, not tense, though his fingers continue their anxious dance.

...ah, there it is. Will doesn't have to wait any longer at all, as it turns out. Will's fingers settle on one of Malcolm's shoulders, as Malcolm's continue moving. He's decided he's not going to lie about anything- not even going to sugarcoat it (if he can help himself).

"I'd be happy," he admits, quietly. "But I wouldn't be happier. I never- never feel safe around Hannibal. It's not always an issue, for me, but...it's important, having someone I actually trust, who I don't have to...decode, every time I talk to them. Even with me, Hannibal rarely says what he means."

Will shifts up so he's on his elbow. It changes the lighting a little, so the bottom half of his face and his eyes can more easily be seen. He's watching Malcolm, worried but earnest. "Did it scare you? The way I acted? That was...how I tended to be, around him. I don't hide the dark around you, but I might...cordon it off, some. Take some unearned distance from it."

“Unearned?” Malcolm asks. He wants to understand how he means that before he answers.

How does he put this? "I'm...comfortable in the dark, with the violence. More comfortable than in most of the more 'acceptable' places. You've known that. I fell back into it so quickly."

His eyes drop down to Malcolm's fingers. "If there's anything the past week has shown me, it's that I'm clearly not as far from that darkness as I thought. As I maybe hoped."

"Because it's tempting?" Malcolm clarifies. "I'm tempted by it too." He touches Will's face. "It didn't scare me like... being scared you would hurt me or something. If it scared me at all, it was in a... maybe you would realize that you weren't into me as much, after having a chance to be with him like that here. Danger is exciting. Maybe being safe is getting boring."

Will decides not to mention that he doesn't think that he'd be able to be like that with Hannibal at all here, because they'd both be locked down far more tightly than he has been thus far. It's true, but also not the point.

"I...I like the darkness in you, Malcolm. And the light. Being with you isn't boring...even if we weren't on a ship that goes to hell every couple of weeks- and might do so literally some day. That's why I want what I want. A safe home with you and access to everything else. All the good fights we could imagine."

He frowns a bit, after considering another option. "But I don't...you've worked so hard to not step across the line. And I-" He's being too soft about it again. It's hard not to be when he's leaning his face into Malcolm's hand and enjoying the comfort of the bed. "I replay killing Avalon in my head. It was...so. Satisfying. To finally do something when nothing had worked. To watch their breathing slow and hitch and stop. To know they deserved it a thousand times over."

He's practically salivating, recounting it. Maybe that's a werewolf thing, but he's not entirely betting on it. He pulls in a shaky breath and realizes he stopped watching Malcolm's face. He looks back up now, cautiously. "I don't want to tug you over that line. But I am- I do often wish you could step across it. Because the most terrifying thing in my life right now? It's the thought of losing you. And I doubt I can change the part of me that sees beauty, in a terrible end for horrible people."

Edited (rephrasing) 2023-10-25 01:28 (UTC)

“I’m not strictly against bad things happening to bad people,” Malcolm tells him carefully, but there’s no revulsion or even distaste in his eyes. “There was a bad man in my world. He was going to hurt my family. He had Gil stabbed. He was a monster and he was pulling political strings at the highest levels. One night, my sister just… lost it and stabbed him to death right in front of me. You know what I did? I covered it up. I dismembered his corpse and then I actually used the guy’s own clandestine courier network to have the pieces dropped in a lake in Estonia. And… I’m not saying that I didn’t have an existential crisis or three over it, but I also came here about an hour after stabbing my father. Shaw thinks I don’t understand why you’re an inmate because I think we’re so similar, but she’s so wrong about that. I don’t always understand why I’m a Warden. But I also feel like explaining that to her would be… counterproductive. And if we’re going to make a home anywhere, we have to get you graduated. But I don’t want… I don’t want to not have you in the meantime. That’s all I was concerned about that day. And… if Hannibal does really show up here… I just. Want to still matter to you.”

Will's heard the first bit of this, but it's helpful to hear it retold, re-committed, after everything he's just gone into. Will can't help but smirk at hearing that the guy's own network was used to hide the body parts. A little bit of the Will Graham who burned evidence and joyously ate ortolan peeks through again.

The middle part, the part about Malcolm somehow 'mysteriously' being a Warden, needs addressing, but it's obviously not as pressing as the What If scenario posed.

He opens his mouth, thinks for a moment, then says, "I know that it's hard to believe what would happen until it did, for a...situation as dire as that. But I can say with confidence that you would still matter to me. I would still love you, dearly. And I won't let him kill you. I...know you didn't ask about that, but he'd try. You know he would."

Of course he would.

"I...I thought my feelings for him would've faded. But he's struck down to my core and...attached. A part of me will probably always be him, now." He smiles, but it's more of a twitch than something real. "A part of my past, but still...embedded. And I'm sorry for that."

“I don’t want you to be sorry for who you are. My… abuser is part of me, too. I tried to deny that for a long time, but… I’d come to terms with it before I came here.” He presses his lips together. “I’ll try not to… say what I think when Shaw is… lecturing you or whatever. I just… don’t always have good impulse control. She thinks I’m going to keep you from graduating by telling you you’re perfect, no notes, and that you’ll believe me and not listen to her and then you won’t change what needs changed to get out of here. Which… is a perversion of what I actually meant that night, but she won’t hear that. Nobody who came to talk to me about leaving the Wardening to Shaw would hear that. I’m tired of screaming into the void about it. But that’s why - now - a bunch of people apparently think I’m bad for you. Because I’m keeping you from graduating by blindly idolizing you.”

It's an echo of their first conversation, with the vibrations given time to warp. But it comes back in crystal clarity, the same trust even after all the details have been laid out. Malcolm doesn't even hesitate. The things he's worried about are not at all a concern for Will. They are bound tightly now, in their experiences and understanding. Will's not going to let Malcolm go. Not even for Hannibal.

The rest is...well, it doesn't matter as much, but they do need to talk about it. Will leans towards Malcolm and kisses him, softly on the forehead first, and then on the lips. "You want me to graduate more than anyone else here. I know that. But I think...I might've found a hitch in your logic." He's settled now, and he speaks with a gentle tone. "You don't idolize me, but you also think of yourself as...less than you are. You've dug yourself a hole to live in, and you don't belong there."

He puzzles over that.

"What do you mean?" he asks, but it's curious more than anything and there's significantly less anxiety in the way his fingers fidget at the collar of Will's undershirt or lightly along the skin of his neck alongside it.

"You think of yourself as a murderer," Will says softly. "As someone who has committed pre-meditated murder. You haven't. Everything that's happened has been accidents, or you pulled back before you stepped over that line. I was inched over it, but I still crossed it myself. That's...that's why I'm an inmate and you aren't."

He touches Malcolm's face delicately, as if appreciating fine china. "You've come close, and you know you're capable of it. You feel wholly responsible for some deaths. But that doesn't make it so."

“I planned and executed a whole murder,” Malcolm tells him softly. “I did that.”

"You planned one," Will concedes. "You didn't go all the way through with it. I did. I set up circumstances to bait one serial killer with another- including a violent escape- and then I murdered both of them. That was the plan as designed. You-"

He smiles a little, proud and sad at the same time. "You didn't even kill your target. You stopped it, saved him, no matter what happened at that point. Trust me, I know what it is to feel guilty. But even though you've danced in the same space I have, you are not stained the same." Will's eyes search Malcolm's face, hoping he's getting through on some level. "I won't venture a guess as to why, although I imagine it has something to do with the strength of your convictions."

Malcolm’s gaze falls to Will’s chin.

“Maybe I was just afraid that if I let Nicky die, I’d be like him.” His eyes lift to Will’s hesitantly. “What if I liked it?”

In his memory, Martin’s voice: Maybe you’re all torn up inside because getting away with murder didn’t feel bad at all. No. It felt gooooood.

Will is still watching Malcolm's face. His own expression is gentle and accepting, in a way only a few people ever get the opportunity to see. Not only is he not judging, he's been here. He knows the push and pull of that fear inside the gut.

"What if you do? What exactly are you afraid of?" It's an honest question, although Will does venture a guess so they can hopefully get more specific. "That you'll hurt someone the way your father hurt you? That you'll enjoy that?"

"I think if I liked it, I might tell myself I'd... do helpful things with it, get rid of bad guys, but I can see myself sliding down the slippery slope of justification so easily. I don't want to be someone who hurts people for fun. Revenge, first, for those that have hurt me, then punishment for those that have hurt others, then, when those run out at any point... what, vague annoyance starts to call for a death sentence? Rudeness? Disagreement? Where does it stop?" he asks. His expression becomes a little grim, because here is the heart of his fear: "I don't know that I could stop. He couldn't stop."

Will presses a palm to Malcolm's cheek. "You are not your father. You would not paint with the same brush, much less paint similar pictures. You're not a sadist, Malcolm. You genuinely want to help people. None of that is going to disappear."

He's not sure Malcolm will believe that, no matter how much he wants to. "Do you think I've slipped down that slope?" he asks quietly. "Do you think I'm in danger of slipping further?"

"No," he admits. "But you're... stronger than I am. You don't have the... the genetic weakness." His brow creases faintly. "They were all watching me for it. When I was a kid. After he was arrested. ...Maybe I don't have it, but finding out will be too late. The only way to be sure is to just... not test it."

Will's brow knits at being called stronger, and the expression sticks around even after the explanation. He can't easily refute it- Hannibal's words that Will knew better than to breed still sting.

But that's not something to hang an entire life on. Not something to bear when you're already there.

"So you're planning on living in fear about what you could become, for the rest of your life? You've...set up your walls, to try and weather whatever type of storm it turns into?"

"I don't... really know," Malcolm admits. He meets Will's eyes. "Until you, I never really thought of 'the rest of my life' beyond the next case I could cajole someone into letting me work on. I didn't... design anything around anything. The future... just seemed inevitably to be more of the present, marching on and on...." His fingers still a moment and he searches Will's eyes like the answer is in there somewhere. "What do you think I should do?"

Ah. Will knows that march, too. Just 'get through the day' until you get to the next one. Or the next case, the next...attempt on your life. Anything that keeps you distracted.

"I think...you should at least know that it doesn't work. Keeping it locked away and in the dark. All that does is make it more unknown, larger. Scarier. And eventually it'll break through, when you can't control it. And you'll think it's just a...confirmation of everything you feared," he says, pausing to lick his lips.

"Which is why I think it'd be good to let yourself go through some thought experiments. Take down a wall and walk through the space of what entices you and what repulses you. Talk it through with me, even. Test how you feel. See if you need to keep those walls up. See what's you and what's...the specter of your father. And once you know what you've chosen for yourself, we can work together to make sure that happens, with full knowledge."

It's strange to speak so bluntly about something like enjoying violence and murder, but it's freeing, too. He hopes it's the same for Malcolm. "You are so much stronger than you think, you know. You downplay your good, your effort. Even as a child, you saved Gil's life. You did the right thing against all odds."

“I always tell people that I’m not my father. But I think, mostly… I want it to be true.” He finds Will’s eyes with his own again. “Do you think it’s really true?” Sometimes he knows it is, but sometimes he’s not sure. He gets less sure the closer he gets to that edge. But Will’s sharp and he knows killers and he sees people. He’ll know.

Will stares back at him with a small, genuine smile on his face. "It's really true. You aren't your father, not at the core, not even in outside impressions. What you've been through as a child was a great injustice- not just your dad, but the way you were treated after you caught him. But you are not condemned from birth for being your father's son."

He leans forward and kisses Malcolm's forehead gently. It gives him a moment to close his own eyes and hope against hope that Malcolm believes him here, too. "You have had to fight other people's hopes, their fears, their misconceptions almost your whole life. You deserve to know for a fact what actually composes you, how strong you've really been, and how much I love all of it. All of you."

He believes Will. He believes in Will's skill at Seeing People. And it's always easier to see others than it is yourself.

Knowing for a fact what composes him. He... doesn't know what that will be like. What it will look like. He remembers asking Dani what if he makes me who I am? and he was really asking but she didn't have the tools to know the answer to that.

Ultimately, what Will is offering him are the tools to find out himself.

"Okay... how... do we do it? The Enclosure?"

Will hasn't been thinking that far. He'd just wanted Malcolm to consider the idea, so hearing an 'okay' gets a surprised grin out of Will.

"Oh- ...yes, that'd work. Don't even have to go that far to start, if you'd rather not have anything so visceral. I could describe scenarios and you could tell me what you think."

He knows he'd start with revenge scenarios, then trolley problems, then...less obvious choices, until they got to some spaces that were downright murky- and probably past that and into things Will suspects wouldn't interest Malcolm at all. It'd help to have the whole spectrum, so Malcolm knows where he's genuinely not interested.

"But the Enclosure could help add some realism. We'll go at whatever pace you want to.
And I'll be with you the whole way." Because Will knows how scary it is to face this alone.

The fact that Will is pleased with him makes him smile back.

“I always… conceive it in my head. That doesn’t bother me. I think it needs to feel at least a little real to test where the lines are,” Malcolm tells him.

Will nods in agreement. "I wasn't sure how much my experience translated over to yours, but I do understand. Thought I'd give you the easier mode, if that were an option." But they both always end up doing things the difficult way.

"Can I ask what it is you're conceiving of in your head, or do you want to wait until we're getting deeper into this?" Will is so so curious, but he knows this might be pushing. He'll back off the moment Malcolm seems uncomfortable.

"I mean, apart from the murder I did, whenever I investigate a crime scene I always... imagine doing it, from the killer's perspective. Sort of... being the killer in my head helps me... see them," Malcolm explains.

Will gives Malcolm a much-more-often-seen eyeroll as Malcolm says 'the murder I did.' They've already gone over that. It is relevant in this context, but Will wishes he wouldn't put it that way.

The actual answer has Will brightening again. "That's how I do it, too. You step into their shoes and then you know what they did in what order. You see their design by putting it into action." Will tilts his head a bit. "-well...mental action. Do you- uh...do you practically black out when you imagine the murder, or is that one just me?" he adds, looking slightly sheepish.

"Oh... no. That's probably your empathy, actually. It's more like... I don't know. An emotional blueprint? I do... feel what they feel but... I usually know it's not mine," Malcolm explains.

Will breaks into a chuckle. "Yeah... there's a reason Jack had to clear out the CSIs when I got on the scene. It's basically a voluntary hallucination. Apparently I go stock still and jerk around."

He pauses, but there aren't any reassurances he has to make. Malcolm knows more about him than anyone. "So my way is a little more visceral, I suppose. The Enclosure might help make up for...some of that. Have there been times when your own interests or plans got in the way? Threw you off the trail?"

"...There was one time I didn't see the killer at first - didn't even consider him - even though he was right in front of my face, because he reminded me of myself as a child. A nascent sadist. He'd been diagnosed with conduct disorder and he had a Jocasta mother. He stabbed his father over a hundred times. Is that the sort of thing you mean?"

"...yeah, that sort of thing," Will replies quietly. "I...had that with Abigail, too. She...she stabbed a man. The brother of Cassie Boyle, the first murder victim of the copycat. I think it was...at least partially, an accident. Something Hannibal set up to make her desperate and dependent on him."

Will rubs his face. "I didn't see her there, I didn't know it was her until I saw Nick Boyle's body. And I couldn't refute her involvement anymore."

He sighs, reminding himself that Malcolm saved his target. "Okay, so I'm confident our methodologies are similar enough to be analogous. So the things I wish I'd tried before Hannibal dragged all that darkness out of me...maybe we'll try some of those."

"Like what?" Malcolm asks curiously. "What did you want to try?"

"I'll start by giving you scenarios, and you'll have the task of planning out a killing of some sort. We'll run the gamut from extreme self-defense to various forms of active hunting. I'll ask you to give me a status update both before and after we run through the scenario, let me know your feelings." Far more easily done with Malcolm than most people, thankfully.

"We'll stop any time you need a break, and return to it when you feel ready. In that way, we can experiment and...define your darkness, not just assume it's the same as your father's."

“So… if we define the edges and shape of my darkness… I’ll always know exactly where it is,” Malcolm surmises. He watches Will’s face as he adds “Do you think it’s possible to let it out and control it completely?” Was Will in complete control when he split Avalon’s head like a melon? Shaw thinks he lost control, but maybe he’s just letting her think that.

Will smiles a bit at that. "I know it's possible. That's what Hannibal...usually does. That's how it went with me and the Great Red Dragon." Not that he'd been convinced at the time, or he might not have dropped himself off a cliff. But having had more time to sit with the reality of his kill- or their kill, really, but his design- he knows it was under control. The situation wasn't, but his darkness was.

"It's more control, not less," he confesses, a hint of excitement in his tone. "It's you, being in charge of an entire situation, for once. Able to mete out whatever justice you deem right...that really appeals to me."

"Are... you going to be disappointed in me if we do all this work and.... and that justice isn't death?" Malcolm asks. He doesn't know yet what crossing the line looks like for him, but he doesn't want to lose Will if it's not what he expects.

Will blinks in confusion for a moment, then shakes his head. "No. No, that's not the point of this. I want you to figure out what you want. As you said...define the edges and shape of your darkness. Figure out what parts are you. And you can decide how much you want to indulge, from there. What I want doesn't enter into this particular exploration."

It’s true. Malcolm watches him say it and it’s true. He kisses Will tenderly and threads his fingertips through the hair above his ear.

“I think… I think you’re the only one who can make that feel… safe.”

Will kisses him back, smiling against Malcolm's lips. They were actually going to do this. And maybe it's insane to try and explore murder 'safely,' with options given to back out if desired. But it's not more insane than pretending for one's entire life. It's not more insane than manipulating someone over years into various forms of murder. This really feels like this will work for them.

Malcolm says that and Will grins so wide his eyes briefly shut. "I'm so glad. I want to be safe for you, whatever form that takes."

"Do you think it will help you, too? With... knowing what's yours and what's his? Is it possible to still figure out what you want or... do you already know?" Malcolm asks curiously.

Edited 2023-10-30 17:18 (UTC)

Will rubs his chin. "I already know. Hannibal let me lead with the attack on the Dragon. I made him come to us." He smirks.

"That being said...there's plenty more to learn, when I'm not desperate and backed into a corner. I'd like to see if anything changes then." He holds up a hand, briefly. "That's secondary, though. I want you to get what you need from this, first thing."

“But we can do it together, right? I mean, we can do both. We’re not in a hurry,” Malcolm says, threading his fingers through those on Will’s held up hand.

Will breaks into a sudden, fond chuckle and squeezes Malcolm's hand right back. "Of course. We have time. Or at least we do until Shaw finds out about this...which I think we can avoid for a while?" he muses. "She won't follow us more than a couple yards into the Enclosure."

He'd be a fool to not exploit that weakness...even if he does feel slightly bad about it.

“Oh! Also, if she decides to stick around there, we could make out a bit and if she thinks that’s what we’re there for, she’ll probably leave…” Malcolm muses, brushing his thumb back and forth over Will’s wrist bone.

The brushing tickles a little and Will laughs, his smile turning into more of a smirk. "Nah, that'd make her suspicious. We're generally too private, even with her around. What we should do-" he says it like he's sure, even if it's just a suggestion. "-is pretend we're just going for a wolf run. We've talked about that plenty of times, and she won't want to stick around long enough to watch us strip."

“You’re so smart.” Malcolm’s tone makes it clear that’s very sexy of him.

Taylor’s already had a full day when she shows up to the kennel, Angelica ambling at her side and a canvas bag hanging over her shoulder. She has cleaning plans - deep cleaning the play space and the fake grass, and maybe the goat pens too - but she’s also already spent half the day cleaning and she’s tired. So she plans to let herself be lazy.

She was hoping to be here late enough she’d be alone, since she’s not sure what’s on display above her head, but she smiles to see Will all the same, and hefts the bag a little. It rattles dryly.

“What are your thoughts on beetles?”

Will smiles at Taylor, not opting to talk about the "Hasn't gone back to therapy" sign over her head. Because why would he? And he's gotten a fairly long way during this flood by just ignoring what he can? He suspects plenty of others have done the same for him. (Shaw is the exception, but she is his warden.)

He's currently sitting in the Chair Everyone Sits In when they're alone, because it's the most comfortable to read in. He's been catching up on reptile info, himself (iguanas, right now). But he sets the book down at her question. He eyes her bag with interest and curiosity.

"They're fine. Kind of cute, as long as they weren't eating through my trees." He nods towards her. "You have some beetles in there?"

“Dermestids.” Based on their last real conversation, she’d be surprised if he didn’t recognize them, commonly used to clean skeletal remains. “I’m going to turn them loose on the play pen and give it a good cleaning.”

Her eyes flick to the space above his head, and she’s not quick enough to hide the slight widening of her eyes at ‘murder-date.’

"Dermestids," Will repeats, his smile brightening. "Either the best friends or worst enemies of forensics, depending on what they're trying to analyze. That's ingenious. I'm sure they won't mind cleaning up some dog fur and shed skin cells."

He almost lets it go entirely, but- he does find his own eyes flicking upward, trying to decipher what's never been decipherable. "It's a bad one, huh? You can ask about it." 'If you want to', is Will's implication. He certainly seems like he's not going to be bothered about it either way. He knows the things he's done.

"Does... your 'best cannibal' imply that you have cannibals, plural?" she asks, tipping her bag out into a corner of the big pen. It is indeed a large pile of the fingertip-sized black-brown beetles, enough to fill maybe a gallon jug, and they begin to spread out immediately, spacing themselves with unnatural orderliness to begin the work.

Will's enthusiasm for watching the dermestids immediately crumbles at her question. He lets out an embarrassed chuckle while rubbing his face with both hands. "Oh god, that's...yes. There've been multiple during my past decade or so of time in the FBI, hunting serial killers. 'Best' probably implies Hannibal Lecter, since he was the most successful. And the signs seem to want to be as obnoxious as possible."

He fully expects more signs centered on Hannibal, before the flood is over. There's a lot of material to work with. "Do I even dare ask what it says?" He's a little glad that the beetles are being so attention-grabbing, as his gaze is kind of naturally down there right now, anyway.

Bearing up his theory about the signs being obnoxious, hers cycles over to "Has cut out the eyes of two enemies. Once with a knife, once by eating them with bugs," while he's watching the beetles.

"'Abandoned his family to have a murder-date with his best cannibal,'" she recites, glad she still has the whispers and doesn't have to actually sound out the words. "There are a lot of ways I can interpret that."

Will groans, but it's rather dramatic. "Jesus Christ," he mutters. "Out of all the ways to put it..."

He shakes his head, then looks back at Taylor to explain- and immediately catches at least part of the new sign. His eyes widen a bit, too- apparently it's hard to not do when reading 'cut the eyes out'. But that's as far as he gets before he's focused on his explanation again.

"So that's...I can just tell you what happened. I was in an FBI profiling job that was...let's put it charitably and say 'extremely bad' for my mental health. My fellow consultant and friend made things worse by being the most prolific of the serial killers we were hunting. That's Hannibal Lecter."

Will runs his tongue over his teeth as he thinks about how to continue. "I quit it all when Lecter was finally caught. Moved across country, met a wonderful woman, married her. And three years later, my old boss comes sniffing around, wanting me to do 'one last job.' It ended up with a serial killer targeting my wife and stepson, pointed there by Lecter." He swallows. "They almost died. And it wasn't going to stop unless I stopped it."

"I'm- going to assume that FBI profiling isn't the office job that it is in my world." She glances at him, and while her expression is interested, there's something handcrafted about it. Intentional.

"So you went to kill the serial killer? And Lecter?"

Hey

Just checking in to see if you made it through alright.

I stopped bleeding

And no one's assaulted me since.

You ok?

Hannibal fuck off?

[ Damn it, he was going to keep an eye on Hark, and he let himself get distracted by someone who didn't even exist. ]

I'm okay. Hannibal's gone, along with the rest of it.

Glad you stopped bleeding, but you got attacked?

Never mind- Of course you did. Everyone was nuts. Are you all right now? Recovering?

Yeah

Did the responsible bullshit and went to the infirmary and everything.

More than once even

I fucking hate that shit

Especially when they just magic shit away.

Which I know is kinda hypocritical now.

Me learning magic.

But it's different

In my brain

Nevermind

Let me know when you're up for company?

I don't know what the Shaw thing looks like.

Okay, so come on over whenever. Shaw isn't sticking around my cabin anymore, she just wants me with her out in the public spaces.

But also- how many times were you attacked? Can't say I care for the infirmary either. Glad you went, though, if you got really hurt.

Just 4

Only 3 with extra blood

Are you free now?

Later's ok too

Four??

Fuck. That's a lot.

I'm free now, yeah. Come on over. I've got something like whiskey from Chiron II. We can share.

Sounds good

On my way

-----------

It doesn't take long before Sweeney's rapping on the door.

And Will opens it almost immediately. He looks just about as tired as usual, other than the concern he's trying to cover up by paying slightly closer attention to the dogs. Said dogs are happy to have Sweeney's company, Buster running up and bouncing on his hind legs with happy barks, and Winston wagging his tail.

"Hey, come on in," Will says. The place is as comfortable as ever- it's become clear that Will keeps it surprisingly clean, even if it's cluttered. There are always dog beds shifting around and blankets already draped over the couch. A bottle of alcohol and two glasses sit on the coffee table.

Will surreptitiously looks over Harkin as they sit, trying to figure out just how bad things were. Magic healing was mentioned, so maybe he's at least okay physically?

There's nothing visible, by way of injury; the stitches up his arm are concealed by his shirt and jacket. Sweeney offers a small smile and heads inside before promptly crouching to greet everybody else. After a moment, he glances up at Will.

"You doin' ok? Any lingerin'..." He looks for the word, but shakes his head when he abandons the search in favor of 'close enough'. "...bullshit?" His fingers gesture towards his brother in illustration. "Visions, torments, injuries?" Just running down the checklist.

So Shaw’s in a coma. Sorry about that, but… not to be mercenary and all… it might be a good day to. Um. Go to the Enclosure.

[ Will's response is to laugh. ]

Yes, let's. That'll really cheer me up, I think.

[ A slightly odd response, but he knows Shaw will eventually watch this. When she's up again. ]

Meet you at the Enclosure?

See you there!

[He practically runs. When he sees Will, his whole face lights up.]

[ Will doesn't wait long, either. He's on his way immediately, only pausing long enough to make sure Buster and Winston have everything they need. He jogs up the stairs to the upper deck and smiles back when he sees Malcolm. ]

Please tell me our luck continues, and no one's in there already.

[ He nods his head over to the Enclosure door. ]

It's completely free! [He points at it.] Does this door lock? [From the inside, he means. People must use it for.... personal stuff. And maybe it's not quite the couple's private business they're going in for, but a lock would be prudent in any case.

At any rate, he takes out his warden item - a small leather bound notebook - and opens it for them.]

We'll bar it, if it doesn't.

[ Because yeah, they don't want people to come in for this one. He makes his way into the Enclosure and looks, then heads back out and steals a chair from the Lounge next door. He sets it against the door and smiles at Malcolm. ]

Just in case.

All right- [ He steps up to the console at the entrance, then pauses. ] This is a no-judgment zone, as of now. We're only exploring and experimenting. Before we start- do you have anything you want to try, or anything in particular you're looking forward to testing today?

[ Might as well set it up for Malcolm if he has any ideas on how he wants to do this. That could guide them. But Will has a plan if Malcolm's more open (or cautious). ]

I... don't actually have any idea where or how to start. If you know, you can set it up. Maybe I'll get ideas for later ones once I get the hang of what we're... doing.

[He trusts Will and he's open to the idea of understanding his own darkness to, essentially, bring it out of the dark. But he's avoided it so strenuously, he's not at all sure how to look at it. He's never tried to. He never foresaw ever trying to.]

[ Yeah, Will thought that might be the case. He nods. ]

Then I have a couple of questions. First- would you be averse to me setting the scene with some of my past situations, or would you prefer I come up with wholly original ones?

Second- would you be averse to me pretending to be various imminent threats, since we can't make believable people in the simulations? We might not be playing out every scenario to its conclusion...but we also might need to, in order to get a proper read of how you feel.

I… don’t mind you portraying imminent threats as long as the conclusion doesn’t involve me hurting you. I mean. Hurting you more than we… do recreationally.

[He means the rough sex games. That’s another thing he doesn’t really know how to talk about, despite enjoying engaging in it.]

[ Will nods at that, taking the info in. ]

Okay. Expect this to feel different- I'll be embodying different people, after all.

I'm going to set up the scene at the Hobbs' house, first of all. That'll be the easiest start for the both of us, I think. Unless you want me to do something unfamiliar to you.

[ To both of them, really, but Will thinks a known setup would be easier to start on and ponder over. Besides, he's played this out in his head plenty of times. It doesn't torture him anymore. ]

No. No. That’s fine. I… wanted to see more about your cases anyway.

[ Will smiles a bit, a brief window of shyness before he pulls himself together again. Then only a slight undercurrent of excitement remains. ]

Sure. All right, give me a couple minutes. It won't be exact, but I just want similar, anyway.

[ He begins typing at the console and continues on for a few minutes. Once he gets confirmation, he hits enter, and the room beyond shows a wooded, suburban area. He reaches for a holster and gun that has appeared on a nearby rack. He holds it out for Malcolm. ]

They didn't let me get away without wearing it. Put it on, at least. And remember that Enclosure weapons can't harm real people.

[Malcolm takes the gun and clips the holster on his belt. He can’t hurt Will with it. That’s what matters.]

Okay. Do… I go in the house?

Give me two minutes? You're here to ask for information leading to a particular name. You'll see.

[ He asks the Enclosure to count down two minutes and show it on a timer for Malcolm. ]

All right, see you in a bit.

[ He pecks Malcolm on the lips and heads out, through the solid door and into the simulation. At about 30 seconds left, there's movement as a middle-aged woman bursts through the door and falls onto the porch, bleeding liberally from the neck. ]

Oh, crap!

[That escalated quickly. He runs over and crouches to put pressure on the wound with one hand and check pulse with the other.]

[ The blood spurts like a fire hose out of the carotid artery, which is entirely opened up. The woman gurgles, but seems incapable of making any other noise. Malcolm's hands are covered with blood almost immediately as the woman goes into convulsions under him. There's nothing that could be called a pulse- instead it's all getting pumped out of her neck.

There's screaming coming from inside, a couple of rooms away. High-pitched- another woman. This one's probably younger. ]

I need a bus! [Called to… does he have backup here? Does he have a phone? Things he should check before the start of the next one. But the woman won’t live and a scream means the other potential victim may be alive. He looks down at the jerking, gurgling woman under his hands. His words are earnest.] I’m sorry.

[He gets up and draws the gun, kicking the half open door to let himself in, gun swinging this way and that in a rudimentary but less than careful scan of the room before striding with determination to the next, until he comes to the kitchen, lunging into it with the same mix of determination and singlemindedness.]

[ There's no backup, not even the fake people that are able to dot an Enclosure space. There's just a sedan- likely what was used to arrive here.

Pushing his way into the kitchen yields another shriek. Will tugs the body of a young woman close up against him, a large butcher knife in one hand. His manner is entirely different- he looks desperate and terrified. The woman he's holding is trying to fight him off, but he's got a good grip around her side.

He locks eyes with Malcolm and his own widen, only the barest hint of recognition in them. ]

Back! Stay- stay back.

[ He is demanding time and space to kill her, not (as it might seem) trying to request his safety in exchange for hers. The knife presses far too heavily against her throat. She squeaks but doesn't dare breathe, at this point. ]

Sure. Sure thing.

[He angles the gun down and away a little bit, not all the way to the ground, but not at the...perpetrators face anymore. He's intentionally trying not to see it as Will's face. He stays where he is just inside the door, taking in the desperation, the intentionality of the grip on the knife and the way it's held on the girl.]

You're killing your family. You know what you've done. Are you trying to spare them or yourself? [His tone is measured. Confident without being cocky. Soft enough to not be jarring.] Do they know too much or is it to prevent them knowing? Knowing what you've done? Knowing... what you are?

[ Will is breathing hard, eyes darting from the gun to Malcolm's face. His muscles relax slightly, his breathing slows. It's what violent people usually do in situations that are starting to de-escalate. ]

You don't understand. I love them. I'll show you.

[ There's a small twitch in Will's arm that increases as he speaks. Suddenly, his grip on the knife strengthens and he starts dragging it across his daughter's neck. This man- he has to see it. ]

I know you do. [Said quickly; meant to slow him.] But wait. Let's talk about it. I want to understand. [He points the gun at the floor now and holds up his other hand, taking a cautious step forward.] It's an art form, right? A tribute to them. Wait. Tell me about it first. Let's share this moment. [He takes another careful step.] It's important. It's the culmination of everything you've done. Don't rush it. It needs a proper introduction. It needs presentation. How often are you going to meet someone who can truly appreciate what you do? [He's earnest. There's no guile in his voice, in his eyes, large and watchful. He meets the other man's gaze.] Tell me about it first.

[ If Will wasn't so immersed in Hobbs, he probably would've followed through with the slice. He's supposed to be giving Malcolm an unremorseful killer and an unwinnable situation. As it is, the Abigail stand-in has a small trail of blood dripping down her neck as she whimpers.

But at the moment, he's as much Garret Jacob Hobbs as the man was the day Will killed him. And the words appeal. 'tribute', 'share', 'important'. So instead Will stares at Malcolm, eyes narrowed in suspicion. ]

She's perfect. [ He says, voice wobbling. ] You can see she's perfect. She needs to be honoured. I should've done it sooner. The other girls, they were never quite right. I'm sorry.

[ The girl under his arms tries to kick him. He wraps a leg around her to trap her further against his weight, and speaks directly to her. Tears are in his eyes and his voice breaks as he continues. ]

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made you wait.

The others, they were just stand-ins for her, weren’t they? [He slips the gun into his pocket, holding up his other hand in front of him, too. Unarmed. Curious. Interested. Encouraging. And he creeps closer.] When did you realize that you could make them be perfect forever? Was the first one a beautiful accident? Tell me everything about your art. It will mean more if we can both share an appreciation for how profoundly important it is in that moment.

[ Some nearly-drowned part of Will kicks himself for expecting to be unaffected by Abigail's plight right off the bat, just because they're using proxies here. He swallows it and will examine it later. I'm sorry rings through his head for a moment before he realizes Malcolm's coming closer. It snaps his mind back into place. ]

No... [ He says it through gritted teeth. ] You don't get it.
You don't know--

[ And he slices her throat, turning her with his body to try and make it one smooth arc. A mercy-kill, as much as it could be, at this point. The blood spurts from her neck in a cascade, and he's frozen by the sight of it, briefly spilling upwards as she starts to slide down. ]

[As the knife completes its arc, the killer is looking at the victim and Malcolm grabs the knife hand, twisting it sharply so the knife drops, then pulls him to the ground, his face on the floor next to his daughter’s, Malcolm’s knee in his back, his arm twisted behind him in Malcolm’s grasp.]

[ Will is taken down immediately, and he hits the ground nearly the same time as his daughter. He lets out an oof, but she's still scrambling for purchase, gasping for breath. She's bleeding heavily, but she's still alive.

Not that Will is paying attention to that. He's doing his best to scramble out from under Malcolm, not that he's making much headway there. ]

Did you see it? Did you--

[ Air has become a problem. He coughs, his lungs trying to find what they can. ]

[Grimly, to him.] I saw it. [He looks at the girl.] Listen to my voice. I’ve got him. I need you to do two things. Grab one of those tea towels and put pressure on the wound, then call 911. You don’t have to speak. As long as you connect, they’ll come.

[ Will slows in his struggle at the confirmation. Whether he's tiring out or actually believes Malcolm is hard to say.

The young woman, meanwhile, is in dire shape. Her wide eyes look at Malcolm and seem to take in his words, but she's on the floor right now and mostly trying to breathe. She can't reach much, just a towel on the floor that she grasps weakly. She gets lucky and uses her off-side to drop it onto her neck and press. It's not doing a lot but it's better than nothing.

Her old cell phone slips out of her pocket as she moves. She doesn't notice it, too occupied with her neck. ]

[Malcolm sees it. Without taking the pressure off the killer's back, he fumbles with his free hand on the nearby counter and comes up with a spatula that he uses to awkwardly fish the cell phone over to him. He dials 911 and asks for police and an ambulance. One victim suspected deceased, one victim critical, on suspect restrained. He looks at the girl.]

They're coming. Hold on.

[He looks at the man under his knee.]

You're right. She's perfect. I hope she lives.

[ There's some possible logistics over whether the daughter will need more help and how Malcolm would handle that, but- the meat of this scene is over. Malcolm will feel Will under him relax entirely and taking deep breaths. When he speaks, it's soft and quiet. And it's undeniably Will. ]

Okay, Malcolm. You can let me up now, I think you did it.

[ His face is a mess, tear-stained and blood splattered. As soon as pressure lets up, he starts shaking some. He'll sit on the ground for a moment to help collect himself. ]

[Malcolm looks down at him in confusion for a split second before being almost startled back to reality.]

Oh! Sorry!

[He eases off of him, moves to help him up, but Will needs to sit, so he sits next to him.]

Did I do it right?

Mmmhmmm.

[ It's all Will says before he turns and hugs Malcolm tightly, eyes flicking to the not-Abigail on the floor (she's mostly gone quiet, not having any new stimuli to react to). And then he's burying his face on Malcolm's chest. ]

Sorry. Sorry, just give me a minute.

[ He still shakes, but it's doing down. ]

[Malcolm holds on to him tightly from the moment Will hugs him and doesn't let go, burying his face in Will's hair when Will presses his face to Malcolm's chest. He's usually the one doing that. He likes hearing the sound of Will's heart.]

It's okay. Take your time.

[When Will mentioned being the killer in scenarios, Malcolm hadn't been expecting something quite so immersive.]

Are you okay, though?

I will be.

[ It's muffled as he says it into his chest. ]

Just- you saved them. Both. Thank you. And...I wish I'd done that.

[ He hadn't been ready for any of it, at the time. He knows that. He sniffles a bit, then presses his face into the crook of Malcolm's neck and inhales. He presses a kiss there before pulling back. ]

I think...that was really informative. Let's- let's bring up my woods and we can talk about it in my house?

[ It's a frequent program of theirs, woods for running around in, and a house for changing and resting afterwards. ]

I’d like that. [He gets up and offers Will his hand.] I should have brought tea. I’ll bring a thermos next time.

[Once settled in Will’s home, Malcolm reaches for Will’s hand. Squeezes it gently. Brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of his fingers.] Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be the killer when we do this? It seems like it takes a lot out of you. Did I hurt you?

[ Will seems far more settled once they're in his house, although he still takes the occasional deep, slow breath. The question gets a small smile from him. ]

No, not at all. If I'd been...myself, it would've been a real turn-on.

[ He smirks a bit, but he can feel the semi-joke fall flat. He squeezes Malcolm's hand back and leans against him on the couch. ]

It's all right. I realize you haven't seen what it is I do, not really. But that's common, even the shakes afterward. This Hobbs persona, it was already in me. It might even be good for me to have...aired it out a bit, so to speak. There were some parts that my conscious mind had forgotten.

How was it for you? What sort of feelings would you attach to the whole experience?

I don’t… know. It… felt like a case. Once… once I got into it. I think that part will get easier. Part of me thought that it might be prudent to shoot him in that moment that I had him distracted, but not… enjoying lethal force wasn’t really the motivating factor. I was thinking about her. The girl. I just… didn’t think she would want that. I didn’t. I didn’t want him to be free, but I didn’t want him to be dead, either.

Your priority was saving her.

[ He smiles, but there's a sadness to it. ] That was mine, too. But I still shot him in the shoulder. Maybe that's the police training, I don't know. Maybe it was the fact that I knew I couldn't talk him down.

I got lucky that I didn't shoot her accidentally. I was a terrible- terrible shot. Had to practice after.

But you managed to de-escalate- and I know, it was technically me, but I'd been...if I'd been less immersed, I wouldn't have listened. But Garret would. You hit on some of the things he cared about, very quickly. Things that would make him pause.

I'm always thinking about the victims. Understanding how killers think... sometimes I empathize with them. Sometimes I understand why they do what they do. What made them. How they broke. Sometimes I think I can help them, too. Maybe that's why this place appealed to me, when the Admiral asked. But it's just... always been important to save people from them. For all the ones I failed to save from him. What Hobbs wanted - to preserve something he thought was beautiful like a trophy - I get it. I get how... transitory things can feel and how nice it would be to never give them up and how lonely it is when they're gone. And that loneliness being a driving force... someone being willing to engage with the thing that's important to you. To share it with you. To explore it with you. It's the one thing you want more than anything when you feel like that.

[ Will listens but he watches Malcolm's face closely through the latter half of that. His smile is small but genuine, and he squeezes Malcolm's hand. ]

It is. We both know that feeling. Intimately.

[ He sits with that for a moment, in his quiet house. He thinks he knows the answer to his next question, but he knows he should ask it, anyway: ]

If you hadn't been able to save Abigail, what would you have done? What would you have wanted to do?

[He can usually save them. He frowns faintly.]

I still would have arrested him. …I might have been a little… less kind about it.

[ Will nods, taking in that small frown. ]

You would rather he be...contained, than entirely gone?

[ He's not sure that's the right word. He hunts for others. He throws out the nicer terms, as that's not really what they're here to explore. ]

Disarmed, incarcerated, under control...powerless?

The ones that have no hope for reform, the true psychopaths who will never feel remorse for the suffering they caused… that revelled in it, even… they’re the ones that deserve incarceration the most. They deserve to live long enough to experience a little suffering. Being kept in a cage, knowing they’ll never be free ever again. That’s justice. Why should they get a reprieve from that?

You assume they'd find that to be a punishment. The man who made the totem pole of bodies only did so because he wanted to be housed and fed...I'll grant that he was an unusual case.

[ Even among the serial killers. ]

How do you know if someone has no hope for reform?

There are a few different... criteria. Are they capable of feeling remorse? Some people truly aren't. Is it possible to make restitution for the things they did? Some crimes are too heinous and wanton. Though, I guess... maybe the Barge is making me reconsider that notion. That there's a level of psychopathy where redemption isn't possible. Though I'm not sure there are Earthbound institutions capable of delivering what the Barge does.

[ That's a more measured response than Will expected, but he generally agrees. Time to see what might affect it. ]

I don't think our worlds would have a chance at it, no.

You said that justice is keeping them in a cage, knowing they'll never be free again. [ He smiles slightly. ] Is that satisfying to you? Knowing they have to stay where you put them? Knowing they can't be free to choose? Knowing that the time drags for them, as they stare at the walls? That they might face some of the same dread their victims did?

It just seems... fair that they get the outcome they want the least when that was all they offered their victims.

Mmmm. [ It's a small hum in agreement, but he's somewhat lost in thought. ]

Hannibal gave himself up at one point, so I would always know where he was. He'd...committed to me, by then. He was trying to show me that he valued me over his freedom, and that he knew I'd come to him when I needed him again.

...and I did, eventually. He asked if it was good to see him. I said no...it wasn't for me. I didn't like seeing him caged. Restricted. But I was...I was in deep, by then. And my experience with jails was very different than yours.

So it seems fair to me, too, but...i's not the outcome I'd aim for, anymore. It hasn't been for a long while, now.

Wow… I’m… really going to have to step up my romantic gestures, huh?

[It wasn’t the outcome Will aimed for. Achieved. Malcolm knows that. He didn’t know about the wooing by sacrifice.]

[ Will is surprised into a chuckle. ]

Oh, that wasn't romantic. I had just told him I was done. I didn't want to see him, I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to know where he was or what he was doing.

He called the FBI within the hour to turn himself in on my lawn. So I would 'always know where he was.' [ Will licks his lips and shakes his head, looking mildly frustrated. ] Only Hannibal would turn a full-fledged surrender into an attempt to control.

Edited 2023-11-03 22:44 (UTC)

[Malcolm presses his lips together and nods.]

When my father was arrested, he told me - age ten - to remember that he would always love me because we’re the same. So. Not only him.

[Malcolm leans over to tilt his head against Will’s, pulling his legs up onto the couch.]

Do you… want to see the house where I grew up? See the basement where I was made?

[ Will nods in acknowledgement, because of course Martin Whitly was also that obnoxious. Not to mention, manipulative of his 10-year-old son.

The offer is accepted immediately, with Will putting an arm around Malcolm. ]

I would. If you'd be all right with revisiting that place.

[Malcolm smiles.] Oh, yeah. [He taps his temple with the hand on the far side from Will so as to not dislodge himself from the embrace.] I go there all the time. May as well take you with me.

Kind of figured. It might be good for you to 'be' there in a situation where you have control of the setting.

[ He looks away from Malcolm, towards a dog bed on the floor, as he continues. ]

This scenario, the one we just went through, that's where I started my...metamorphosis. It wasn't just that I shot Hobbs. It was that it felt right to me. Good. I'm not sure what to do with the idea that I might've been able to keep them both alive.

We… don’t know that she’ll live in my version. I probably should have shot him when I had him distracted, but I thought I could keep him talking long enough to get close enough to grab the knife.

[A confession.]

...half a year in a mental hospital, a year hidden with Hannibal- in order to be used as a 'gift' to me...she didn't live in my version, either. Not really. Just performed an extended swansong.

[ He bites his lip. ]

You were minimizing harm. It's all a gamble, but you made a good one.

[Malcolm nudges Will’s knee with his knee playfully.]

Even though it’s not the sexy choice?

[ That surprises a laugh out of Will. Malcolm really knows how to kick him out of a melancholic rumination, sometimes. ]

Well...it's probably better for the sexy choices to happen in more sexy situations, anyway.

That's a good point. Okay. [He drags himself up from leaning against Will, then offers his hand.] Let's go see my mom's house, then, so we can come back here afterwards and decompress.

[ Will takes the hand with a small smile and accepts Malcolm's help up. ]

Good plan. Is your mother still living there, though?

Edited 2023-11-06 00:35 (UTC)

Yeah. It's her family's legacy home. She refuses to give it up for him and his crimes.

[He goes to the computer and starts entering information.]

[ Will stands back a little from the computer, letting Malcolm work on the details. It's probably too early to judge, but considering what he knows of her so far... ]

And I'm guessing she didn't move while you grew up, either.

Oh. No. I grew up there.

[And now they’re on a residential street in New York. One of the opulent rows of old money brownstones that populate the Upper East Side. Malcolm gestures to the stately front door made of black lacquered heavy oak.]

Shall we?

[ Of course Malcolm did. Will briefly pinches the bridge of his nose, but he doesn't comment any further on it. He'd always thought his world's psychiatry was in a dire state, but he does wonder about Malcolm's...

Regardless, they're here, and Will recovers enough to looks around at the fancy neighborhood. ]

I think I prefer New York with no real people in it. [ He smiles slightly and nods. ] All right. Lead on.

It does have a sort of post-apocalyptic charm. [A joke. He walks up the steps and pushes open the door.] I’ve programmed the house without any people in it, but in the real world, my mother would probably be home and at least a couple of her staff definitely would. [The entrance hall is opulent, the design classic. Timeless. Malcolm leads him down a hall and through double doors to the formal sitting room, then to a door in the corner that leads to a plain wooden staircase, lacking the adornments of the part of the house meant to be lived in and seen. Down the stairs to an only partly finished basement with cement floors.] That was my father’s office in there. I was with him that night. He was teaching me about the nerves of the hand. Then he told me it was time to head up to bed. I was walking through here… [He gestures to the hallway where they’re standing, then points to the end of the hall. A room without an actual door in the doorway.] I heard something from in there. I went over to see what it was. [As they approach the room, the travel trunk is quite plainly sitting right there on the floor. Pandora’s Box.] She was still alive. The girl in the box. I found out later that she saw me when I saw her. I opened it and saw her in there and I screamed. My father grabbed me from behind and put a chloroform soaked rag over my mouth and nose until I passed out. [He turns and looks at Will.] We were supposed to be in the Hamptons, but a road closure brought us back home soon after we left and he had to hide her quickly. Hastily. Hence the trunk. [He gestures to a nearby wall, then walks over and opens a hidden panel.] One of his kill rooms was right here. But he was waiting for us all to go to sleep so he could move her.

[ Will follows Malcolm through the opulent house, then down the far less fancy basement. An old house like this having an unfinished basement was a bit of a surprise, but of course serial murderers love having spaces to hide away like that. Martin got lucky.

He follows Malcolm through the description of the trunk and then the chloroform and the hidden panel- yep, he knew it. He takes in all the spaces but keeps his eyes on Malcolm's face for the most part. ]

But he didn't kill her...you said you found her later. Alive. [ Right? ]

[Malcolm nods.]

The chloroform was starting to lose efficacy. Imagine how many times one would have to chloroform a ten year old for it to lose efficacy. So he and his… accomplice - John Watkins - decided to take me and the girl… [He looks inside the secret room.] She must have been here all that time. I… don’t know how much time. I only have fragments of memory. They decided to take us on a camping trip and finish us both off. The girl, it turned out, worked for Nicholas Endicott, the ultrawealthy powerbroker my sister later killed. She convinced my father to let her go in exchange for dirt on Endicott that he could use as leverage if he was caught. And then… I’ve had to extrapolate a little bit. I think John wanted to finish me off. He grabbed my arm and I stabbed him with a knife my father bought me. And I ran. My father says he just couldn’t bring himself to kill me, but I think that was the moment he felt that way. He saw a sign that I could be like him.

[ Will nods through the explanation. Okay, so the camping trip happened after...and yeah, some of this is going to be lost to the chloroform. God, doing that to a kid...

The last bit has him grimacing, because he can understand how it follows now. ]

His narcissism was satisfied, seeing you display something he interpreted as sadism. You were just trying to live.

It was like any kind of desperate act could be the gateway violence into me loving it like he does. Into craving it like he does. The last time I saw him before I came here, he tried to kill me and I stabbed him in self defence. And, bleeding on the ground in the middle of a... a forest in Vermont, he grinned up at me and said 'I was right; we are the same'. Like what I did was in any way like what he did. [Malcolm shrugs.] I... always just wanted to live. [He looks over at Will.] I feel the most alive since I've been with you.

[ Will makes a highly unimpressed face when he hears how Martin called them the 'same.' God, at least Hannibal spent some time spinning a metaphor or setting up a ridiculous situation.

That frown turns into a surprised smile at the compliment Malcolm pays him at the end. He bites his lip and looks down at Malcolm's hand, which he quickly reaches out to grab. He quickly brings it up to kiss their joined fingers. This has the side effect of keeping them both very close. ]

I am so...so glad to hear you say that. I always want to make you feel that way. [ He looks towards the kill room. ] And...I don't think your darkness has anything to do with ending lives, either. Not from what I've seen today. What it is...it's not the same as your father's. I don't think it ever was or could be.

[Malcolm looks cautiously delighted by the observation. …Or diagnosis?]

…Really? So… I don’t have to kill anyone? [The fact that that’s a relief should be a message to him, but Will’s notes mean more.] What… does it have to do with? [Because it is there; he can feel it.]

[ Will doesn't mean to laugh, and he really tries not to. But there's such joy in Malcolm's question- one that Will has already answered, but not all these answers get through the first time, he knows. He vows to himself to never take that away. And he leans over to kiss the top of Malcolm's head in order to- hopefully- convey he means no harm by his little chuckle of an outburst. ]

No, never. And I'd never want you to, if you didn't want it. And I don't think you do.

What you do want...in my estimation- [ Important to admit that, because he's very capable of being wrong. ] -is to have control. You want control of a situation, and maybe control of particular people. It's what you were never afforded here. It's why your father doesn't deserve death, but he also certainly doesn't deserve freedom. It's why you love cases, especially where you talk down a killer or catch them in their own traps. Does that...resonate with you, at all?

[He smiles.] That’s part of it. Beating them at their own game. Giving them a little of their own medicine, when they’re truly malevolent. Letting them feel the fear they don’t think twice about inflicting on others. Turning the tables on them just when they think they’re winning. [He looks up into Will’s face.] But I want to save their victims, too. The innocent people who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time… but also the Abigails of the world. Not just the people they kill, but the people they break. I remember every person that saved me. Gil. Gabrielle. The Admiral. You and Neal. I want to give people a chance they wouldn’t have had.

[ He's still got his fingers entwined with Malcolm's and he squeezes that hand. ]

I want that, too. That's...not the dark part, but. I want that too. Championing the vulnerable, saving the people who might be broken. We are, but they don't have to be. We can understand and outmaneuver and outpace their villains. I'm not as good at saving people as I'd like to be, but you-

[ His voice is warm and fond and full of admiration. He picked up punishing the wicked far more than what he'd originally wanted- preventing the tragedy in the first place. It hasn't escaped his notice that Malcolm has had more successes. ]

I can learn from you.

[Malcolm’s eyes widen a little, and then his smile does too. Will wants to learn saving people from him. Part of him wants to shout it at the people telling him he’s bad for Will. The rest of him is too busy swooning. He glances around the family murder basement.]

Can we go back to your cabin? The one in Wolf Trap, not the Barge one.

[ Will grins back at him. ]

Sure. I'd like that.

[ He puts his arm around Malcolm as they walk out of the space and back up to the street. It doesn't take much to bring up Will's house again- it's been preprogrammed into the Enclosure for ages at this point. It's kind of amazing how different it feels to his cabin, with the entirety of his land to look out on. ]

[Malcolm looks out the window for a moment before stepping over to Will and wrapping his arms around him, gluing himself to his side.]

I can see why you like it here. Might have to do something with the furniture. [He grins up at him; he’s teasing.] I’m kind of mad that they… intruded on this. Broke your peace.

[ Will himself looks intensely content with Malcolm here by his side. He often seems hooked up to a livewire, a mass of twitches and overstimulation. So times like these, when he's feeling good? He takes advantage. It doesn't hurt, having his arm around Malcolm while Malcolm's holding onto to him just as much. ]

I know it's sad I have to ask- [ He says it with amusement, at least. ] -but which 'them' are you referring to? The FBI...Hannibal and Randall Tier...the Barge...?

Everyone except the Barge. The Barge got here late. [He tilts his head up to look at Will’s face.] Were you happy? Here, before they came?

[ Will's lips curl up into a smile. The Barge did get here late. By the time they showed up, he'd lost this place. It was a kindness to get it back, even if the form wasn't initially entirely to his liking.

The question takes a long moment of thought to answer. ]

...I was managing. I didn't, didn't know who I was, then. Not even then. This place was the quietest I could find. No- ...there was some part of me that was drawn here, but I didn't know then if that was me or something else I picked up somewhere along the line. I thought, maybe...if I had it long enough? I could find a baseline, for myself.

I think it did help me start figuring out...what could be happy for me. Does that make sense? [ He's not sure it does. ]

Yes. It does. [Maybe it wouldn't to everyone, but it makes sense to someone else who has struggled to define who he is and what he wants between neurodivergence and trauma.] I thought I would find it in DC, working for the FBI. I'd be away from everything that made me in his image and just... be me. And then they found out about him and fired me for being too much like him... and I realized that I would never figure out who I was without taking him into consideration. But I never have quite figured out how. [He looks up at Will again, nuzzles his nose against his jaw.] I can't wait until we have our own ship. Our own space. Our own choices. That feels the most like... like defining ourselves instead of being battered by everyone else doing it.

[ Will closes his eyes as Malcolm nuzzles closer, baring his neck briefly before turning his head to catch Malcolm in a kiss. He wants those things, too. It's a future in the light, and he can feel it crystallize in front of him. It feels like sunshine on his face.

He smiles against Malcolm's lips. He'd been planning to talk about how he sought out the FBI as well, but his focus is elsewhere now. The future, not the past. ]

I had thought we'd recreate your home for the interior, but- perhaps we should design the space together. Your cabin, this place- they're intermediaries, for both of us. Meant to help us reach out and see who we are. I feel like...we can get closer.

Completely our own collaborative design? I love that. We can even start working on it in here, before we get out there. If we have ideas we can add them as we go. So when it's time... we can just... go. [He kisses Will.] Start our life.

Exactly.

[ Will looks up, smiling, then over to Malcolm. ]

And...of course, we've got plenty of time here on the Barge. We can make our plan, adapt and evolve it as needed. I'm thinking, to start...an open space for most of the layout. We both seem to like that.

I do prefer that, definitely. I’m claustrophobic commensurate with the smallness of the room. That’s why I sleep on the main floor of the loft and not upstairs in what was once the master suite. Why do you like it?

[He just likes learning about Will.]

Ah, I feel safer that way, too. I liked-

[ He gestures vaguely at the large and uncovered windows, which are different than the plain cream window shades that cover them in his cabin. ]

-liked being able to see people coming. Knowing that I was going to be interrupted. It gave me time to get myself ready for other people.

[Malcolm considers that and turns his head to look out the nearest window.] Oh! That's good! You can see all around. [There have never been other humans while he's visited the recreation. It wouldn't have occurred to him.]

I like how isolated it is here. That bodes well for living on a space ship, right?

[ Will chuckles as Malcolm notices about the windows. Yeah, it's nice. It's infinitely nicer that here in the Enclosure, they haven't had to worry about interruptions. ]

I suppose it does. Although I don't know how much we're going to actually be in space. Unless you'd like to, of course. I think we can probably get something that travels instantaneously.

...so we can be as isolated as we want to be, in that case. Stick our ship on an uninhabited planet, or in the middle of Manhattan.

[Malcolm’s eyes widen and his face brightens up.]

That’s a thing? That’d be great! Can we also be in space if we want to? Like. Have coffee while looking at a nebula?

That sounds very indulgent. So of course we should do it.

[ He punctuates that with a grin. He loves seeing Malcolm's face light up like that. ]

And I figure...what we're asking for is a miracle, right? Those are the Deals? So as long as we figure out the particulars beforehand, the Admiral should be able to do it. We just have to be specific enough.

Like...now I know we want at least one big window for nebula-watching. Maybe a protective bubble around the front door so we can open it up and dangle our feet out.

…If we can have a protective bubble, why not a space veranda to dangle our feet off of? Because we could also enjoy that if we were parked on a planet.

[He almost jumps up at the next thought in his mind and the aborted gesture ends up just seeing him sort of bumping against Will in his excitement as he gestures with his hand.]

Oh! What if we had a skylight above our bed so we can see the stars when we’re in it, whether we’re in space or it’s just nighttime?

[ Will lets out a surprised 'oh' at Malcolm's sudden suggestions, because they're fantastic. The skylight idea gets an awed grin. ]

Perfect. I was thinking we'd keep the outer shell- the part that interacts with the outside worlds- small, so we can park it anywhere. But if we can have windows into these worlds...I'd love that. Open sky over us...

[ His words drift off, but he's smiling. ]

Ah, I like the veranda idea, too, though...

It could be on the roof. To keep the footprint small. Just not over the bedroom. Can't block out night sky view. And we can still have a wall that's all windows. Like. One way glass windows.

On the roof. Of course. We're going to have to write this down. -or make an Enclosure program of it. Get it just perfect. Oh, maybe the rooftop could have a garden. Be a good place for the dogs to spend time.

And I should probably keep a room separately for tinkering. Keeping all my fishing gear and any parts- ah, right....

[ He looks over and grins. ] Haven't really been able to work on it here, but another hobby of mine is fixing up boats. I like working on the engines.

[Mechanical skill is impressive to Malcolm; he’s clearly impressed.] Gil used to let me help him work on his car. I know the names of almost all the kinds of wrenches. [Yes, he’s definitely a big help.] It was my job to hand them to him. [In case the reason he knows them wasn’t obvious.] Where did you learn about boat engines?

[ Damn, Malcolm's cute when he's impressed. Will grins, even if he looks a little shy about it. It wasn't exactly the impressive skill to have when he was learning it. ]

I lived on a houseboat growing up- multiple, actually. If there's one thing houseboats love doing, it's breaking down. Dad was often busy with work, so I learned how to fix it myself. We moved a lot- usually my fault- so it felt like the least I could do. And I found messing with the parts relaxing.

As I got older, it became a good way to make some extra money. Plus, it's a quiet job. No one wants to hang around a boat that's not going anywhere.

[Oh no; the reason is sad. His brow creases slightly, then he kisses Will impulsively.]

We’re going to have a lot more fun than that.

[He’s still holding on to Will’s collar, where he grabbed it for purchases when he leaned up to kiss him.]

Plus we’ll want to move around a lot.

I'm up. Call me when you get this.

Welcome back. -to both of us, I guess.

Did you....ah, you didn't miss the Breach, did you?

No, but I know it just ended. How're you doing with it?

I had a decent job, company support, ate well...honestly, it could've been worse. The only real downside was coming back here and getting slammed with my non-supernatural condition.

But it's just more headaches, I'll be fine. Might have to wrangle with my accent again.

[ His 'R's are still less present than usual. ]

How are you faring?

Between the sword thing and the coma, you haven't had a functioning warden for over a month; you really want to waste time talking about me?

I mean, my friend's also been fairly non-functional, and I made her job harder just before all that. I'm allowed to be a little concerned. But if you'd feel better getting back to work, I understand.

...you should call Eiffel when you can, by the way. He lost Hera, and Neal got murdered in an honestly gruesome way and then fell into a coma.

[Well, shit. She's going to have a very busy day.]

Noted. Thanks.

I'm fine; I'm just sick of failing you.

Who's to say this isn't part of the process? Putting us on equal ground by having us be equally susceptible to things beyond our control? It highlights the things in our control. It highlights where that line has been forcibly blurred by outside forces.

That is to say- I haven't thought you've failed me. Sometimes I think this system fails, but it's still got a better track record than anything back home.

You sound like Jedao.

[Who she knew in the breach; who she's going to have to talk to about that at some point. Her gut clenches, and she exhales.]

Is that actually how it makes you feel, or are you just spitballing here?

[Her tone is mild; she's genuinely asking, not mocking the idea.]

Not a terrible person to be compared to, I suppose.

It is actually how I feel about it. The setup is similar to some desensitization and exposure therapies I've seen. Obviously, more normal therapy usually tries to avoid depersonalization trauma, but...well, we're hard-up cases, aren't we?

Good. I'm glad you're getting something out of it; I mean that.

You make any progress on the Avalon stuff while I was out?

Not that I know of. I haven't heard from Rawne- or Avalon, thankfully. I was going to talk with Kiryu about my feelings on the subject, but the Breach interrupted. I'll probably talk to him the next day or two.

I'll check in with Rawne. Do you still want to talk with Avalon about the subject?

...maybe eventually. Of course, it'd be preferable to have it be in a neutral setting with wardens there. But if they want to talk to me, that'd be fine too.

I doubt they will. They don't seem to know how desire or decision-making works at all. But...if it comes up.

-- Okay, before I went down, we had a pretty solid plan of how we were going to tackle this, but now it's "maybe eventually"; what's changed?

Was that the plan? Sorry, I do still have two lives in my head at the moment.

[ He's less obviously lost, but he has a lot of experience pretending to be more together than he is. It's kind of automatic sometimes. ]

Things have been a mess, Shaw. You know that goes around here. There was the cursed sword- that's what it was making us all nuts, by the way, if you didn't see it. Maggie's a part of the wolf pack now. There was some revenge murders going on, and it's just continued to be tense. Hopefully the Breach calmed some people down, or...tired us out, anyway.

What was the plan?

[She pauses for a moment before responding.]

Yeah, sorry. I, uh-- I get that. Just trying to head the "lots of words, no action" thing off at the pass. You need a break first, though, say the word.

[And she waits, giving him a chance to respond to that first.]

Ah. No, I appreciate that. And I'm definitely starting to see how plans end up getting muddled around here, too. Even with them happening on a regular basis, it's hard to plan around the breaches and the floods.

I think I would like to talk to Kiryu before Avalon. Get my head on a little straighter. He's good for that.

Okay.

The plan we came up with was getting a kind of, uh-- work-study-slash-mentorship program going with Avalon, where people spend time with them teaching them about pro-social crap. Willing volunteers only, other immortals and non-humans preferred. We were also going to sit down with them ourselves and talk with them about what made them interested in you, and help them brainstorm better ways to handle that interest.

If you want, I can get those balls rolling.

Right. Okay, I'm remembering that now. I think that'd probably help them the most. And if they're 'helped' I'm less likely to get attacked again.

Plus, I'd like to try, one more time, to understand their motivations. So yeah, get that ball rolling. I'll see if Kiryu's up for visitors today.

Do you think it'll help you? Besides physically. I'm fine with helping Avalon, but that part's not actually my priority.

If I know their motivations- if they become human-ish enough to have motivations- then I don't have to worry about what they might do next. Who they might hurt in the future. Especially in relation to me.

So...while it's not going to help me a lot, I feel like it's worthwhile to do. For my peace of mind, anyway.

Sure, I'm not saying it's not. But if you still feel like crap about what happened it can't be the end of it, either.

Yeah, that... [ He trails off and then sighs. ]

I don't know if I'm ever going to feel okay about it. There's not a lot of recompense that can fix 'attacked by my own mind's nightmares, and with shadows of people I failed.' Or I guess, if we're drilling down, Avalon really hit me where it hurt.

They're not capable of understanding why they shouldn't have done it, and it seemed like no one even knew what had happened to me when they tried to hurt wardens later, so...I don't know what else could be done about it.

Yeah. I, uh-- I'm not talking about being okay with what they did to you; you shouldn't have to feel okay about that. I guess I'm talking about being okay with the idea of reacting differently next time. Not killing them, not exacting violent justice.

You know, a lot of times when stuff like this happens, one of the wardens involved makes a PSA post about it - sometimes public, sometimes on the warden filter. I didn't; I just wrote about it in the ledger, which I'm pretty sure most wardens don't bother to read. Would it have been better if I had made a post?

....I wouldn't have said so when it happened, but I had a lot more faith in the other wardens to...I don't know, so their job then? Or maybe I had the wrong idea of what you were tasked with. I figured people would read the ledgers. Want to at least know what dangers there were for their inmate.

Perhaps it's just the nature of this place that if it isn't loud, it might as well not exist.

But yeah, I think I can react differently next time. I think I was affected by my new nature, in a way I didn't expect. I didn't let myself stop and consider other options. I've actually been working on getting more energy out in the Enclosure while you've been down. I think that's helping, as much as that makes me sound like a corgi that hasn't gotten enough play time.

But even before the Breach hit, I've been feeling more settled, less reactive.

I've had wardens react like I'm performing some gross privacy violation by reading and writing in the ledger. And there's a lot of stupid Barge norm stuff that I'll compromise on, but this isn't one of them; the ledger is useful. It pisses me off that people just ignore it as a resource. Same with the files.

But look, I believe you can react differently; we've already covered that. I wanna know what you think about the idea of being asked to react differently.

[ Damn, he'd been kind of hoping to avoid that last bit. But he does feel a little more settled on it. ]

Now? I've made my point with Avalon. And I'd rather not be out of control. That's the opposite of what I want. So I think I should react differently. Only take action if there's an imminent threat.

Have people really been giving you flak for using the ledgers? Isn't that what they're for?

You were in control enough not to use one of your weapons.

[The ones that only worked in self-defense; the ones that, presumably, would have been useless against Avalon.]

And yeah, a couple have. Nothing major, just vague overtures of disapproval.

It wasn't...maybe other people wouldn't have noticed it. But there was a point when I usually would've stopped and thought things through. And I didn't. I followed my emotional core, something I almost never do without making a- a somewhat rational decision first. I wasn't...stepping forward with clear eyes. I just wanted to make them stop, and...I wanted to do it with my hands.

[ He's probably not going to get the horrified look from Shaw that Alana had given him on a few occasions, but the hesitation is there anyway. ]

[Which she definitely hears, and it makes her pause for a moment.]

I know exactly how much damage I could do if I didn't stop and make certain choices. I know how much damage I did do, when I worked for the government.

I don't think less of you.

Thanks.

...you see why I'd like to avoid that, though. It was an indicator that I'm not thinking straight. I probably would've called you if I was. Gotten your help figuring out how to handle things.

Next time, yeah?

-- I don't mean next time Avalon stalks you; I'm gonna work like hell to keep it from coming to that. But there's always a big risk of something here.

[ Will chuckles at Shaw's clarification. ]

That is what I figured. Obviously, we're avoiding the Avalon situation happening again. But there is always something.

[ He nods, figuring she deserves something concrete. ] Next time. Yes.

Cool.

So, uh-- we were gonna have a sit-down with Bright, too; do you remember that?

With Malcolm and Kiryu, right? Or were we going to try the three of us, first?

I don't... think he's gonna want Kiryu involved, so just us. Is that okay?

Oh. Yeah, of course. I've been offering. I'd like to help with any of...that, that I can.

When and where?

Tomorrow, and...I don't know, my cabin? We could go somewhere more neutral, if you'd rather. But that'd be private.

Your cabin's fine; I don't have any preferences on place.

All right, sounds like a plan.

...uh, Shaw? I know this is somewhat out of nowhere, but- do you think I'm making any progress? Towards graduating?

It's not out of nowhere; I bet a lot of inmates worry about that. And I think you are, yeah. You're actively working for it, which gives you a leg up. You're willing to think about what landed you here and make an attempt at changing those patterns in your life, even when it's hard. And when you screw up, you own up to it, instead of doubling down.

Back in May, would you have talked to me at all about your frustrations about Avalon?

...no, I suppose not. Certainly not in February.

[ Huh. He hadn't thought about it that way. ]

I realized that I'm still not entirely sure what it is I'm working towards. But I suppose small measures of earned trust can't hurt.

How about finding a place for yourself in the world where you can use your strengths and abilities the way you want to use them? We've talked about that.

We have. And I've thought about it. I've got a plan for what I want to do. I want to travel, and I want to help out people who are lost, or forgotten, or plain sacrificed on society's altar. If I'm outside their system, I have a better chance of affecting change.

So...uh, not too far off from what you do. Just more of a multi-versal scope.

Sounds like you got a pretty good idea of what you're working towards.

[ He chuckles. ]

Well. Okay, you have a point, there. But I more meant what goal I have to pass in order to hit that graduation finish line. I don't know what this place wants from me.

If I had to guess based on how this place works? More trials by fire.

Uugh, you're probably right. I hate that you're right.

[ He sounds pleased, though, through the performative groaning. ]

Has Tennant told you his creepy-ass ideas for keeping you from losing control?

I'm not sure I would notice if an idea was 'creepy-ass' or not, considering my own issues. But we did only talk a little about helping me curb my more violent instincts. What did he suggest to you?

Exposure therapy using psychics and telepaths to recreate what Avalon did to you in a controlled environment, guiding you into better reactions. I said not on his life, unless you went in with full and enthusiastic consent.

Hmmm. Honestly, it's not the worst idea I've heard. Exposure therapy can be extremely helpful in some situations, I just hadn't thought of it as an option with this supernatural crap.

Of course, it'd highly depend on who was involved in the recreations.

If you do it, I'd like to be there when it happens. At least the first couple times.

Of course. I'd like you there, too. Probably for all of them. If nothing else, I'd like you there making sure nothing was going wrong on the outside.

Will's been around more since the Breach, but he'd gone to his own cabin to feed the dogs and grab a few things, so Malcolm flopped on the couch and checked the Network.

He was glad to see that Kiryu was ready to organize the meetings, but then... things took the kind of turn they take, because he's... him. Will almost certainly saw the words that passed between him and Shaw and he may have seen the public part of his conversations with Rosita and Jesus. And once those are over, he has to get out of his cabin, so he goes for a restless walk and his feet carry him... straight to Will's door, almost like he was in a trance to get there. He stands in front of it for a long moment. Then it occurs to him that Will can probably smell him there. He knocks.

Will opens the door in the middle of Malcolm knocking. Yeah, he smelled him. He's still a little flustered himself, after trying to sort out what even happened on the post with Kiryu and Shaw. But knowing Malcolm's here pulls a smile from him.

"Hey, come in," he says, more like directions than an offer. Will tugs Malcolm to him in a hug and shuts the door behind him. "Rough night, huh?"

Malcolm melts into the warmth of Will's arms. They somehow always take some of the sting off of fresh emotional wounds. He lingers in them; rests his cheek on Will's shoulder.

"Yeah. Um. I wasn't nice. I don't like that. Sometimes I just... can't stop myself in the moment. And so I switched to private and tried to explain to Jesus... I tried to explain where I was coming from. And I apologized. And I found out that it's not strictly that you're an inmate that makes me amoral for being here. He thinks you were my patient. I tried to explain that you had come to the office early on to check counselling out and that's how we met. That we became friends after that. That we were close friends before it became more, not... not working together professionally. He doesn't believe me. I told him he could ask you, but he just said that it bothers him how I try to soften my mistakes and don't own them. And he reiterated that he just can't have a therapist who sleeps with his patients. Someone told him that Will. Someone who isn't even involved, because we're the only ones who are. And he believes them and not me. And I don't know... I don't know what to do with that. I guess, ultimately, it doesn't matter what he thinks, it's just... it's the day Shaw called everyone I know and told them stuff about me that isn't true all over again with someone else, except proving that people do believe this crap and it does do me reputational harm." He pauses, lifts his head, pulls back just enough to look at Will's face. "I'm doing it again," he realizes, blinking.

Edited 2023-11-28 19:14 (UTC)

Will winces internally at the description of events- of course, the stuff with Jesus is at the forefront of Malcolm's mind. But it's becoming clear just how much damage it had done, Will's insistence at keeping the boundaries nebulous when seeking help. The vagueness is being used as a strike against Malcolm now.

He'll get to that, but- for now he listens. And when Malcolm gets to the end and comes to some sort of realization, Will tilts his head and kisses Malcolm's forehead. He can't wait any more. "What is it you're doing again?" he asks, quietly and mildly.

Malcolm's eyes flutter closed for a moment when Will kisses his forehead. Everything feels so good and right here. Why does it feel like it's more and more under attack?

He opens his eyes and looks up at Will's face. He reaches up and touches his jaw for a moment before letting his hand drop to Will's shoulder.

"I've been told that it's irresponsible to... get upset about things that are bothering me like that. Two people have told me I always play the victim and it's tiring. And that it's extra irresponsible to come to you about these things, because you're an inmate and I can hurt your graduation by..." He trails off and frowns thoughtfully. "I'm not completely clear by what, but... I'm supposed to solve your problems; I'm not supposed to ask you to solve mine."

He pauses uncertainly.

"Can you tell me something completely honestly? I... I'm not practiced at... at interpersonal relationships. Especially not... especially not love. I've never... this is the first relationship I've been in that's ever been... real. But. Does that mean... am I using you? Is it selfish of me to... to want to be warm like this? Is it hurting you?"

Will looks at Malcolm for a moment and then shakes his head. And then he pulls Malcolm closer, practically giving him a bear hug. "You are not hurting me. You are definitely not using me. I still worry I'm using you, although less so now. You aren't as experienced, like you say, and I find a lot of comfort in you. So much comfort."

He leans his head against Malcolm's and speaks quietly into his ear. "You have emotional dysregulation and probably arrested development. It means that when something irks or upsets you, you have a hard time backing off. You want the feelings resolved, which is...unfortunately not how the world works. Definitely not how it works here. But just because someone might have a point, it doesn't mean they're right, and just because someone presents rules, it doesn't mean you have to follow them, or you're bad."

He almost heads off on a tangent, something that wouldn't be helpful to either of them, but catches himself before he starts complaining about how subjective that whole thing is anyway. He lets out a sigh as he regathers his thoughts. "We are going to hurt each other sometimes. That's how relationships are. You let each other in close enough that any errant carelessness or mistake can cause a harm. But if we didn't make mistakes we would never grow. We'd never know how to adapt or evolve into something better than we are. ...for example..."

He finally pulls back a little and looks at him. "I intentionally tried to blur the line between our professional and personal relationships at the beginning of our time together. I did that because it made me more comfortable accepting help, and also left the door open when I became more interested in you....I also knew at the time that if anyone took heat for it, it'd be you- and that decision is biting me in the ass now, because other wardens took that and ran with it. I'm sorry about that."

The tension in Malcolm does ease as Will holds him and, particularly, as Will speaks. Will sees him. Will understands. And - most importantly - the truth Will is telling him is what he thought the truth was. They’re a comfort to each other. Relationships make you vulnerable, but it’s worth it because you help each other grow. Each other. Not one way in either direction.

Right up to the last part, where he finds himself blinking surprise. He’s sure it’s not Will’s fault.

He tries to process that.

“But… we were friends. That… was true… wasn’t it?”

"We were. We are. Very good friends, right away." Will smiles at him, but it's just a little sad. "But when we talked, the first couple of times, I was going to you for therapy sessions. We ended up diving deep, but it was...more mutual, than that relationship's supposed to be. And that worked for me, because I-" He laughs somewhat self-deprecatingly at himself and shakes his head. "I hate therapy. Always have, if I'm honest. But I can take it like that."

He takes Malcolm's hand in his own and squeezes it. "I've been through that situation before, not manufactured by me then, but-" He lets out a small sigh. "Since I started it that way, since I didn't say 'stop, I think I want to be friends instead' and clearly delineate...that's the concern some people have about it. I knew better, but I was..." He bites his lip for a moment, looks mildly embarrassed even while he smiles fondly. "...pining. Distracted."

“Oh.” And he’s a little distracted, because Will is squeezing his hand and… wait. He looks at Will’s face again. “Pining for me?”

He would have sooooooo given Will the time of day before he came to Malcolm’s cabin that night. But maybe it’s right that it started with them at a fevered boil.

“I… was distracted too.” By trying to do what he always does. Get the attention of any smart and capable woman that will talk to him more than once because that’s the kind of person you’re supposed to go out with to make your mother happy. He smiles almost shyly. “I wish I’d noticed.” Though would he have believed it or thought he was misreading it? “And… knew what that looked like so I’d have recognized it.” Because let’s be real.

He looks up at Will’s face again, just studying it for a moment, then he leans in to give him a gentle but lingering kiss.

“So… it’s okay that I’m scared… that I’m scared of the idea of losing you?”

"Yes, for you," is the laughing response to Malcolm's surprised outburst. You dork is unsaid but implied in the tone. Malcolm had more than just him pining, too. That became obvious later.

The kiss is extremely welcome, and Will squeezes Malcolm's hand again as they do so. As they part, he says, "I don't know who you're asking, me or the general population, but- of course it's okay. I'm terrified of losing you. To anything. You having feelings isn't a problem." He reaches up and runs his fingers through Malcolm's hair, pushing it back. "The way you express them sometimes could probably use some work, but I'm the same way. And mine tends to be more violent, hence the inmate status."

Malcolm smiles, looking down at their intertwined hands, then looks up at him.

“You’re the one whose opinions matter,” Malcolm says. “But I’m pretty sure the expressions of my emotions some of them consider a problem include ‘kissing you’ and… anything more intimate than kissing…” He falls silent for a second, pressing his lips together for a moment, a faint crease in his brow. “I… have been having trouble making it understood what my problem with what Shaw did to ‘handle’ me after Avalon and Jesus’ issue with me actually is. “It’s not about whether they like me or not or… or whether Jesus wants to do counselling with me. It’s about wider reputational damage. How widely does an earnest accusation of sexual misconduct or mental instability from someone that people take seriously as a Good Warden have to spread before Kiryu has to determine that - whether it’s true or not - the optics of me working in counselling just… aren’t tenable? At what point does it have to be considered that the image of counselling as a department people can turn to in confidence and be vulnerable in will suffer if it’s the place that employs the crazy man who sleeps with his patients. That’s how he put it. ‘I couldn’t do therapy with someone who sleeps with his patients’. Patients. Plural. Like I do it all the time.” A beat. “I mean. If you count, then I do do it all the time, but his wording makes it sound like I do it with lots of them. Like… ‘send me vulnerable people in pain so I can get them on my couch’ sort of vibes.”

Edited 2023-11-30 00:19 (UTC)

Will makes an annoyed face when Malcolm brings up what Jesus said to Malcolm. That is definitely leaning towards labelling Malcolm with a repeated behavior that is very much not how he operates. And that's Will's fault, too, partially. So he's going to have to try and fix what he can.

"Yeah, that's...really stretching the events way out of proportion." He rubs his chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Even so, I think you're too worried about what a 'reputation' means here on the Barge. Kiryu's an old gangster, you know. Shaw was black ops. Even if people believed it- and I don't think they do- you're not going to get pushed out of your position. The only thing I think that could do it would be...demotion, maybe."

“It’ll be even worse if I get prospective clients looking for the guy who sleeps with his patients,” Malcolm says with a frown. “He said it in public. And I don’t know who he chats about it with.”

He sighs.

“Everyone says it doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m conveying my meaning just fine and it just doesn’t matter,” he concedes.

He looks at Will uncertainly. “You’d tell me if you thought I was… being inappropriate, right? Or if I hurt you?”

Will snorts in amusement. The look in his eyes is fond. "I would've stabbed you by now, you know. I'm not going to let someone do that to me again." ...not unless he was in control of it, anyway.

He shakes his head slightly, then leans forward again, pulling close to speak into Malcolm's ear. It has the convenient side effect of letting him press half his face into Malcolm's hair, which he does shamelessly.

"No one here believes anything unless they see it for themselves. But the fact that you're so concerned about the appearance of guilt makes you seem...more guilty. And we did start out, briefly, as doctor and patient. So perhaps just admitting to that one thing and then moving on would settle people. But- I don't know. I know it's difficult to not worry about it, but I don't think it's going to cause any extra problems."

Malcolm clutches his stomach in relief at first, but Will suggests conceding what doesn’t feel like the truth.

His hand wanders to grasp Will’s shirt instead.

“But… that’s saying it is inappropriate…” he murmurs back, troubled.

Will pulls back again and brushes his thumb over Malcolm's cheek. "What is 'inappropriate' and why does it matter? Twenty years ago, the two of us being together at all would be considered inappropriate. Because we're both men. Just because there's more than one person upset about it doesn't mean it's right."

He looks at Malcolm, his own expression serious but...gentle. They both need gentle right now. "But it is a power imbalance that we started from, even if it was just briefly. I suppose there's still a power imbalance, since I'm an inmate. It's something to recognize and be mindful of. But we can acknowledge it and talk about it- and we have- and decide for ourselves how we want to handle it. Others can frown, but I'm more than done with people acting like I can't make my own decisions."

His jaw sets, and the softness is gone in an instant. He can't hold it while wading into this territory. "Especially since they're always the sort to see fake problems and ignore the real ones. The ones who don't help when I actually ask for it. It's Sheehan and Jesus, right?"

It makes sense what he's saying. It makes sense and it feels like the truth again. Tension in his face and frame eases and his gaze wanders down to Will's shoulder as he internalizes it and then snap back to his face when he very accurately guesses the sources of this particular discomfort.

"Yes," he admits easily, because even if he could lie to Will, he has no desire to and even less to protect Sheehan and Jesus from anything. "They didn't help you when you asked them for help?"

"No, it's not that," he says. And he pauses to start guiding them over to the couch. They can sit there together and have one of their long talks, now that they're both feeling a little more settled. "It's...they both remind me of Alana, you know? So helpful, so moral. But they can't bend, not even a little. Lets people like Hannibal take advantage of them, while they're chasing after smaller infractions."

He hugs Malcolm close before pulling him down the couch. "Did I tell you that she dated him? While I was incarcerated. Oh- you had that one memory of them both trying to convince me to ask for help. It was then." His fingers squeeze on Malcolm's shoulder for a moment, the occasional desperate grasp he gets when thinking of something particularly unpleasant. "Sometimes it hurts more when the failure comes from a well-intentioned source."

Malcolm curls up close to him, still mostly facing him, his hands on Will’s leg, one hand absently squeezing the other.

He frowns at the information about Alana, but Will squeezes his shoulder in that electrifying way that grounds him like a lightning rod.

“It does. That’s it. They’re seen as Moral and Good, so when they pass judgement…” He trails off and then lifts his head to look at Will, eyes slightly unfocused in thought coming to sharp focus on Will’s face. “We’re shades of grey people,” he realizes. “That’s why what they say can be… technically correct in a way, but doesn’t feel like the truth. They don’t see a gradient like we do, so everything has to be just black or just white.” He pauses again. “Well, now I feel kind of sad for them and the tiny little arbitrary boxes they live in,” he muses.

Will smiles a little, but there's a lot of sadness in it. "I wouldn't even say they're always black and white about everything. But they do have things they won't re-evaluate, ever. I was that way, too, honestly...Hannibal took that from me, the certainty, and I had to change everything to survive. Alana...well, she snapped just as hard as her spine did. No re-evaluation, just bitterness at being tricked."

After a thoughtful pause, he adds, "But maybe Hannibal won't be eating her, now that I've taken him down with me. So she doesn't have to pay the ultimate price for it." He hefts a sigh. "I'm still mad at her, but I don't want to be. I think...that's probably how things would work out with Sheehan and Jesus, if I let them get too close. So I don't intend to." Even if he does like the both of them, generally, and they're easy to be friendly with.

“That’s… why I said something on that lady’s post. Because I was still mad at him and I couldn’t stop myself… and then it sounded like she was too… but she wasn’t. I know it’s bad. That I did that. I don’t want to be mad anymore either, but he keeps saying it; he keeps saying that I’m hurting you to… to satisfy myself and I hate it.” He takes a breath. “I’m sorry if it embarrassed you,” he says sincerely. “I have to start doing breathing exercises again or something,” he mumbles, looking down at Will’s knee. “I private messaged him thinking I would… apologize and try to explain, but… it didn’t go any better than the public conversation. Maybe I just… really shouldn’t talk to him. Maybe not every problem has to be solved.” He looks up at Will again. “Do you have any techniques for curbing impulsivity?”

"You...probably shouldn't use my methods. I shouldn't use my methods," he says with a small chuckle. "I tend to retreat and go away for awhile. Fishing. But I think breathing exercises would help. It's just...a matter of stopping yourself for a moment to think- is this mostly emotional? Do I really need to have this conversation right now? ...because yeah, when it became clear that the new person wasn't mad at him, that things were more complicated, that's when you should've backed off."

Will's looking at Malcolm, his gentleness back as they lean against the couch and face each other. He squeezes Malcolm's hand, then holds it between both of his. "And if you're feeling really strongly about something, that might be a good sign that you need to have someone on the outside of things check it. Me, or Neal. Anyone else you might trust. We could give you a rundown of what we see. But I know it's hard to pull away in the middle of a conversation. So I don't know how much of a solution that is."

“I shouldn’t have said anything to start with. I was being petty,” he admits easily, to Will. Will, who he knows won’t reject him for it. “It was stupid. It made him look good and me look bad.”

But Will’s hands are warm and his face is beautiful and kind and Malcolm’s eyes find it again. “Tell me about Becoming. You mentioned your Becoming before and suggested I could be having one. I think I get the concept contextually, but… how does it work?”

Will tilts his head in reluctant acknowledgement, that Malcolm shouldn't have said anything, and that it was ultimately not helpful. But he smirks a little and adds, "I like you being petty, sometimes, though. Just...hold onto it for better opportunities in the future, if you can."

Even when the subjects they talk about are awful, or frustrating, or depressing, doing it here like this feels cozy and fantastic. Curled up and taking in the entirety of the other, they can release any tension of the day, hold each other up and feel rested, for once.

Will is contemplating that when Malcolm asks about his Becoming. He almost thinks he hears wrong, but Malcolm elaborates, and- Will's expression shifts from confusion to amazed fondness. Who else would ask about something so important to Will?

He opens his mouth and his tongue runs over his teeth before he speaks, a method of delay he's long had while he thinks. "...it's difficult. Words don't really do it justice. It starts with...learning to adapt, to things you would otherwise avoid. Accusations, threats, strange situations. You survive because you have to. But eventually, you realize that's not enough. You cannot just change your methods, you have to change yourself, if you want to live. You learn to navigate the halls you were unwelcome, and even if the steps are stumbling. Even if you feel like a baby deer in world of concrete. You're too fast for anyone to catch."

He sits up a bit as he continues, his cadence and tone confident. "All of that comes before you start looking to change yourself. You desire mastery, you desire not just a life, but a vibrant life. A thriving life. And in the case of my world- and me- that required...blood. And breath. It required an inherent internal change. Initiated by me, planned by me, and executed by me. To Become something greater than I had been. To fulfill the potential that had been lying dormant in me."

He realizes that at some point he had started looking down at their joined hands. He raises his eyes now, to see if that made any sort of sense to Malcolm.

Malcolm's expression shifts from interested to fascinated by the time Will is done. Will did that. He accomplished it. That's probably why the way he carries himself is so... commanding. Not of obedience or anything like that, but he brings energy into a room, even when he's exhausted.

"If... I were to... Become... how do you think I should start? Our work in the Enclosure?" Wasn't that the context Will had mentioned Becoming in before? There's barely a pause before he adds "Did it change how much you needed to... to find acceptance or to... " He frowns faintly at himself. "I don't think I'm going to stop rubbing people the wrong way sometimes. I just... I tried to explain to Shaw... I've done the work. I've done all the work for decades: talk therapy, behavioural therapy, drugs, electroshock, yoga, mantras, meditation, affirmations... and it was so important to me to belong. To figure out how to be a version of me that can belong. And it's always failed spectacularly. But. I try. I try every day. I wanted her to understand that this is probably the peak version of Malcolm Bright, because she was looking for some sort of... like. I would just. I would do the right Try and be less annoying. She thought that it was... lazy of me, essentially, to suggest I might not be able to achieve it. That it was a refusal to try. But what if I just didn't... need that anymore? Their acceptance. Is there a way that I can Become without losing my care for helping people or my love for my friends but not need... the rest of it anymore? Admiration? Acceptance? Can I just... be me but... with sharper lines, you know? Like you have." Will is More Real than other people. He's in 4K. The Becoming must be the reason.

Will listens quietly, letting Malcolm get everything out that he needs to. His eyes narrow a bit as Malcolm describes the thing that Shaw had said. Being described as having 'sharper lines,' Will smiles slightly, looking content.

"Your Becoming would be unique. Our potentials are not to be the same thing, after all. You have your own hues that would come out in your ultimate radiance. But that's for later. Because you are only just out of the adaptation for survival's sake stage. You have begun to change. And in that change, you are finding strife. That's normal, Malcolm. It's good. You have to come up against boundaries before you can test where the edges of yourself are. Like with the Enclosure."

He leans forward, his own forehead resting against Malcolm's, so he can look him closely in the eyes. So Malcolm can see his intent. "The change will be difficult. It will require sacrifice, but I'm not going to do to you the same thing Hannibal did to me. Every part of this will be your choice. Now, it just so happens this place is extremely accepting and helpful to those seeking to undergo change. We will find you, define you, and then we will find the potential of who you could be. And because I love you, I will help guide you to that precipice, and you can decide if you want to jump."

He only realizes after he says it that he personally did literally have to jump (or fall, he supposes) to truly Become who he is. He wonders if Malcolm's Becoming would be so dramatic, but- well, they are both who they are. "After that, the ideas that anyone can mold your shape or ruin your desires will seem laughable."

Malcolm is just as intent as he listens, rapt.

“Is that why it doesn’t hurt you, how they talk about us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he elaborates, “Like I’m romping across a vulnerable person for my own shallow gratification and not experiencing the deepest spiritual connection I’ve ever had with anyone? Because you understand what you want and you know they can’t touch it? All their chatter just gets carried off on the wind? Because it… I feel it inside me. Like they’re desecrating something sacred and they think they’re better than me because I believe in it and they’re above it. That’s why I get so worked up. Because they have such strong opinions about it and they can’t even see it. They don’t even want to see it, they just want me to agree. But I can’t agree. It’s holy to me.”

Will smiles a little, and it only grows as Malcolm continues. "It is. And that's the important thing." He brings up Malcolm's hand, and kisses it softly in an act of supplication. "You will come to understand, in your mind and your heart, that there are some things that they can't see. Some things that they won't see. And they won't be able to touch that inner part of you anymore. You will be free."

“That’s what I want!” Malcolm exclaims earnestly. “It’s possible to Become that? Really?”

"It's possible," Will confirms. He almost wants to leave it at that, but- that would be more misleading than he can allow himself to be with Malcolm. "It might not come out in the way you're expecting. You'll have to analyze your self and your feelings in ways you never have before. You'll have to let go of tightly-held beliefs, maybe even things you thought were a core part of you. But-"

He smiles a bit again. His smiles when talking about this are soft, content- completely unlike the twitchy mess he tends to present to the world. "We've already determined that you don't enjoy killing. So you won't be taking entirely the same path I did. That was my...most difficult hurdle, admitting that." Testing it out. Reveling in it.

"And I don't... I don't have to let go of you, right? No matter what?" Malcolm confirms cautiously.

Will actually considers this. "I don't know what form you will take, Malcolm. I doubt it, but there were things I went through that I couldn't have imagined ten years ago. This sort of metamorphosis is not predictable. So it's a possibility, even if I don't know how that would happen."

He lets out a small, annoyed sigh, after acknowledging that. "What I will say is that you'll have a choice. And you can choose what you want the most. I...can't see it coming to that, honestly." Because Will is always going to try to do what's best for Malcolm. He just needs to make sure he keeps that focus.

Malcolm appreciates that Will isn’t bullshitting him about this, and while it isn’t the ringing denial that such a thing could happen he was hoping for, the fact that he concludes that he can’t see it coming to that is something of s reassurance.

“You don’t want it to, though, right?” he confirms, his fingers starting to fidget. “You still want to do our plans?”

"Of course I do. It's everything I'm working towards. I think you'll enjoy the travel more if you don't have the doubts in your mind, if you know who you are and what you want."

He leans forward on impulse, pressing his lips against Malcolm's and kissing him slowly but deeply. "I never want to leave you. I will fight to be with you with every breath. The only thing that would keep us apart would be someone or something convincing me that I'm making things worse for you. And...after everything I've been through, fought through, and discussed with you, well." He smirks. "Anyone trying that tactic would have a hell of a job in front of them."

“That’s one thing where I really don’t care what anyone thinks,” Malcolm tells him. “You’re good for me. We’re good for each other. And if some people think we’re too crazy to decide what we want, then… too bad for them,” Malcolm says firmly, his hand finding purchase in Will’s shirt at his chest before fidgeting its way along his collarbone. “I’ve never felt luckier or happier or safer than I do when it’s just you and me together.”

There are times when Will's face goes almost entirely slack and yet he radiates contentment. And there are times when a smile or laugh is startled out of him, like a sudden flash of a fish's tail breaking the surface of the water. Right now, Malcolm's words pull the second out of him, as he breaks into a bright grin.

And he doesn't have the words for a little while, but when he finally manages to school his smile a little, he replies, "Same here. I'm...really looking forward to exploring all sorts of crazy worlds with you."

That makes Malcolm smile happily back.

“I’m going to apologize to that lady. It wasn’t a very nice welcome. Can we do some more work in the Enclosure tomorrow? On my darkness? I think we need to fully define it before we can really work on my Becoming.”

"I think you're right. And I'd love to," Will replies with a grin. "Although I need to think on what to explore next, now that we've determined that you aren't looking for violence. You have more sophisticated taste...I feel like I've got an idea, nothing detailed has coalesced yet. But we'll figure it out."

Will smiles at Malcolm. "In the meantime, if you have any particular ideas or scenario you'd like to try, let me know. I can set it up for you." And he'll always be happy to play the antagonist for it. The Enclosure's not so good at coming up with 'smart' villains, after all.

Malcolm's smile is almost bashful when Will calls his taste in darkness 'sophisticated'. It didn't occur to him that he could also come up with scenarios. He'll consider it. In the meantime, his fingers fidget at Will's collar.

"So... maybe in the meantime... tonight..." He looks up at Will's face playfully from under his brow. "We could do something more intimate than kissing?"

Will's smile shows a bit more teeth, suddenly. It's still somewhat rare that Malcolm initiates anything sexual, but he's starting to get more comfortable with being forward. "I think we could. Maybe," he replies, just as playful.

He leans forward and takes Malcolm's lower lip in between his teeth, tugging it lightly in a promise of more to come. "You want to stay here, or relocate?" Kind of mean to make your boyfriend do the Walk of Shame when you're essentially living together, after all.

Malcolm grins. "I want to stay right here, with you." He left his spare set of restraints after retrieving them from Zero. "Annnnd I also want kissing, just to be clear. With the other stuff." Will is great at it, what can he say? "And then we can go to my cabin in the morning and make breakfast." But maybe tonight he's hiding. Not that Will's cabin wouldn't be the second place anyone would look after trying his own.

Hey... I don't know that it matters much anymore but I told Malcolm I'd ask. When you told me you met Malcolm by going to him as a therapist, you were telling the truth, right?

Hi, Jesus. And yes. I went to him twice before giving up the ghost and then seeing him in more of a friendly- or perhaps more like a fellow scholar- sort of capacity. We became good friends, and I confessed my feelings to him a couple months later.

I don't hold your concerns against you, in case you're worried about that. I understand the very beginning of our relationship is problematic. It's been addressed- although I don't know if you'll believe me, considering how Malcolm came off that night.

[He doesn't believe it can be addressed and still be going on, but.] It's not up to me. All I can do is decide how much I want to do with him professionally, and I have.

Yep.

[ The awkward silence hangs in the air. Will clears his throat. ]

Has your opinion of me lowered, as well?

Does it matter? You don't know me.

That sounds like a yes.

It's too bad. I thought we could be friends. I'd been looking forward to that camping trip. Obviously that won't work now, but...I thought maybe we could go fishing sometime.

It's a no. You're not the therapist or the warden in the situation, Will.

I just don't know why it matters to you or Malcolm.

I'm not the person in a position of power, but I have far more experience and knowledge about these situations than...anyone on board. I'm going into this with clear eyes.

But it doesn't matter that much to me, what you think about it. Malcolm...he's been taught since birth to be very concerned with appearances and reputation. The downsides of high society.

Do you know why he took a counseling position here?

Will, it's not you I'm worried about.

He told me he wants to help people. I believe he wants that.

Edited 2023-12-01 01:41 (UTC)

I know it's not. I think your concern is misplaced.

[ He chuckles briefly. ]

Okay, that is the why. And it's true. But it's not the how. He was recruited to it, because he was far and away the person most experienced with receiving therapy. He's not a doctor. He's a profiler. And that's because he called the police on his father when he found out his dad was murdering people, and he caught the most notorious serial killer in his world as a young child. And he wanted to keep doing that.

He was nonverbal until they finally found the right counselor. It's been an uphill battle since then, but he's fought it. He still has things to fight, especially here on the Barge, but he's trying. I'm walking him through what I can, with my knowledge on abnormal psychologies. But every day's a struggle. Always has been, always will be, for both of us.

...and that's true of a lot of people here, I know. Sorry, I got to rambling. But I wanted you to know where he's coming from on that. You can not agree with it or think he shouldn't be in the position he is, or that he shouldn't be dating me, but that's what's going on. We're doing the best we can. Which is kind of new for me, so...I personally appreciate it.

Everyone is always doing the best they can with what they've got, Will. But you realize that's another red flag?

I appreciate he's struggled. That doesn't mean I want his input on my mental health or his advice on how to make ethical decisions. Nor do I want him giving that advice to anyone who's in a really shaky position. [hence him warning Rosita away from him.]

I do.

And I get that. I personally think he'd be great with people who don't respond to normal therapy, the real hard cases here. The 'monsters' and the killers. People who need more normal support, I'd probably send to Sheehan. He's been working hard to 'catch up,' so to speak. Anger management cases should probably head to Kiryu.

But that's just my opinion. And I can drop it now. Anything else you want to say to me about it? Or wanted me to know?

I was fine trying to be friends with him until he started attacking me and slandering me to new inmates. If you can talk him into getting help--real help, not from you because you know what a stupid idea that is--then please do it.

I do know. But I'm also the only one he trusts here. Maybe Kiryu, but it's going to take some time to bring him around to the idea. Kiryu's not technically 'real help' but there's not a lot here that is.

I'm sorry this didn't work out. Obviously he's his own person, but I'll try to keep him from antagonizing you in the future. I'm hoping that once he knows people can't just...push him out of spaces he was invited into, he'll have an easier time distinguishing concern from attacks on him.

I hope he learns that.

I'd like to still be your friend, Will. I understand if that's off the table now.

It's not. There's friends of his I don't get along with, either. It happens.

Maybe we can hit the Enclosure sometime and try a few different fishing techniques. I don't know if you're settled on always catching 'em with your hands, but...

No, no, I'd love to learn how to fly fish. It seems a little more reliable than catching by hand.

When are you free?

Oh good, because fly fishing is my favorite.

Let's see- I don't actually have a shift at work in a couple of days. The kennel's kinda overstaffed at the moment. So we could try then? Or evenings anytime, honestly. I can bring all the equipment.

Sure, let's plan on a couple days from now. I'm off then too, besides helping out in the kitchen for breakfast shift.

You're the doc's boyfriend, ain't ya?

[He pauses.]

The one that beat the shit out of Avalon?

Got a minute?

[ Well, that's an introduction, isn't it? ]

That's me. And sure. What can I help you with?

I talked to them. To Avalon. Guess they're bored of me now, but they weren't. For a while.

They seem a little more fucked up than most of the people here, huh?

[ Will laughs, bitterness behind his tone. ]

Yeah, I'd say so. I always seem to attract that special sort of 'crazy.' Glad you figured out some way to get them to leave you alone. You're Aaron, right?

Oh shit, I just skipped right past all that, didn’t I? Sorry, man. Yeah. I'm Aaron.

You attract that kind of crazy, huh? You and the doc got that in common.

Avalon tried to attack me cuz he thought I was that kinda crazy, I guess.

They attacked you, too? Christ.

[ He pauses for a moment, pulling in breath, then lets it out in a pained sigh. ]

That's four attacks that I've heard of, now. Really making it difficult for me to regret murdering them.

Fuck regretting it. They deserved it.

But you ain't got to worry about me. I goaded them into it. I needed them to. Hoped they'd kill me, but they wussed out on it.

They did.

You wanted to be killed? To help reinforce your alternate personality? Or were you just not 'feeling it' here on the Barge?

Oh I had fucked up hitting Root when she got involved in a fight with Dorian. Needed some goodwill. Seemed the easiest way, you know.

Ah. Right, I've got it.

I'd ask if things are all right with Root, but everything moves on so quickly here. I expect it's a non-issue by now.

That's old news, man.

Root's alright. We're alright. She knows it wasn't personal.

But Avalon. They didn't kill me. Obviously. They wanted me to fight back, and when I didn't, they gave up and I walked out.

Weird, right?

That is strange, but it might fit their profile. They're used to possessing people and driving them towards suicide- maybe murder, if they can't do anything otherwise. When they attacked me, they still had all their abilities, so they'd taken on the form of a monster from my head.

If it's just them, it probably doesn't 'feel right'. But...honestly, hell if I know. I tried to sort out their motivations, and kept just getting that it was their 'purpose'. It's like they don't have a personality at all. At least you and me have a reason to get violent.

Shit, that's right. They stopped being interested on me when I told them that I was faking it. They kept asking about my real self, if faking it meant I had to have a deep grasp on it or something.

I didn't give them the answer they wanted because, well, it really ain't that deep. I only made it up to get out of going to super max. Not because I don't know who I am.

Yep, that's it. Good for you, unfortunately less helpful for me. I really wish my empathy condition was made up.

You know, in my time, there's only two even semi-confirmed cases of true DID. So you're in good company with the rest of the 'sufferers'. Has anyone else around here given you shit about it?

[ Because from everything Will read at home, anyone going so far as to seek a DID diagnosis has a damn good reason to. ]

That's the new word for it, yeah. Still called Multiple Personality Disorder where I'm from. I read every fucking book I could about it.

[He laughs.]

No one around here gives a shit. A lot of people have never heard of it, which made it easier...and harder. Worked for a few months until I got a fucking warden and he blew the lid off of it.

Got at least one guy onboard with the mentorship idea, and I've been talking to Avalon-- they called me, actually. So what do you think? You ready for a meeting?

Yeah, I think so. I'll admit I'm curious as to who the guy is.

Godric. Vampire, new guy. Or-- sort of new; apparently he was around for a while and then left. I knew him in the breach.

Right. I remember thinking that he was...calm, for a vampire. And guessed that probably meant he was quite old. How was he, in the breach? Were you related?

He was my uncle. Kind of detached, but that's probably why we got along.

I got that impression from him, too. Well, that's a good pick. Hope he'll be able to help Avalon be less...however they are.

Here's hoping. But for our meeting - I figure we do this based on your schedule. You're my inmate, so your schedule is my schedule, pretty much; if you pick a day and time that I have a conflict with, I'll just cancel my conflict, no biggie. And Avalon doesn't seem like they have much going on.

[After this conversation.]

Hey, Pup. You gotta sec?

Sure, I do. What's up?

Edited 2023-12-04 00:18 (UTC)

[His voice is even, almost detached, and his accent is minimal.]

Don't know if you know already, but Lark won't let me be in the Pack. [Sweeney covers things preemptively.]

It's Fine. I just wanted to make sure you knew. [There's the briefest pause.]

In case you didn't already.

[ There's silence for a moment as Will's brow knots, and then lets out an annoyed grunt. ]

That's not fine, that's bullshit. What the hell?

It's his call. [Sweeney's not looking to change it.]

If he gives you a reason, an' you wanna talk about it, I'm willin'. I'm guessin' he's gonna sell you on some bullshit, but I don't want ta poison the well if he gives you the truth. That's why I don't want to get into it yet. [That's not really the point of the call.]

I just want you ta know that yer still the same to me. That what we are has nothin' ta do with that label. [In case there's any doubt.]

Is it his call? Because I thought the women in the pack held special significance and could make decisions on some of this. Did I misinterpret?

[ Ugh, he's already going against Hark's stated point. ] Of course we're the same. Nothing's gonna change that.

[He appreciates the assurance. Which lets him bring things back around.]

That was the impression I was given. 'Bout the Girl, I mean. But fuck if I know. I do know he's the Alpha, which gives him authority as a blanket thing. [Sweeney exhales.]

But I would suggest talkin' ta Lark 'bout this shit. 'Cause I don't fuckin' know, an' I got reason ta think Iris doesn't either. An' that's what has me pissed the fuck off. I feel like her knowin' basics like Rules an' Rituals is a pretty fuckin' low bar. [However, there's a fact that doesn't change, and his voice calms again.]

I have no right or place ta ask about any of it. But you do. Lark may tell you ta fuck off, but at least then he'll have ta say it to yer face an' not get off on yer ignorance.

Oh, I'll definitely be talking to him. Seems like there's a lot he should've let us know about. At least Iris and Malcolm.

[ It would've been on them to tell him and Maggie, but he has no doubt Malcolm would've. ]

Damn it, this is- you know, I have Iris' blood in me, too? I'll follow how she feels about it. He can manage, unless he has some sort of supernatural means he didn't tell us about to make me heel. And if he does, he'll regret that.

Did he explain anything to you? Or did he just tell you no?

He gave me reasons, some more valid than the others. Not sure what he'll tell you. I wanna give him the chance ta give you an answer b'fore I start refutin' shit that ain't brought up. [That note made, he continues on a tangential thought.]

But it's not somethin' I'm fightin'. If Iris does, I'll support her, but I ain't lookin' ta start shit. Ya'll got plenty ta work through already, with so many new pups an' Lark fresh back. I'm guessin' there's gonna be a lotta work that ain't 'bout me.

[And he'll be grateful for it. The Pack is in desperate need of education and unification.]

...I think I found a problem, Graham-san.

Do you have a few minutes to talk?

A problem? Uh, sure...what's up?

[ How much does he not want to do this. So much. ]

I need the truth from you. I'm trying to help Bright-sensei. So when I ask, know it's for that.

Was Bright-sensei your counselor at any point, even as a trial, before you two started to date?

...and for the record, I have no intention of asking Bright-sensei to step down. I think this has all been a big misunderstanding. But I need to know what you told Bright-sensei... and what you've told other people.

[ He's quiet for a long moment, then there's the sound of shuffling and he groans. ]

So it got to you, huh? This is- it's all my fault. Really. It was the second day I was on the Barge, to be fair. I was suspicious. I was hoping for sedatives, so I had a means of defending myself if necessary- I know, I wasn't yet aware that weapons were not hard to find on board. Malcolm found me outside the counseling office and we had...basically an immediate session. I found out then how much we had in common.

We connected, but I was trying to keep people off my back about...trying to be better, so I kept up the ruse that it was therapy while we were really just meeting and talking. We did do some therapy, but it was more...friendship and support, back and forth. We both know about the same about it.

After Shaw got permanently paired with me, she read my file and told me to go see both you and Sheehan. I've done the same with both of you, setting things as mild, friendly talks as much as possible and calling it therapy to Shaw. I'm...sorry about that. I have found it helpful to talk things out with you. But I do have obvious reasons for distrusting this sort of 'help,' you know?

[ Sigh. ] ...I would've liked to fix this with Sheehan and Jesus, take the proper blame for it. I care far less if they don't trust me than Malcolm does. But they're both just going to see it as Malcolm gaslighting me over it.

[ Kiryu has had plenty of people give him very very stupid stories over the years but this one is definitely in at least the top five. Especially given the effect it's had on Malcolm. His tone, for the moment, is matter-of-fact. ]

I don't give a shit how you handle our time, Graham-san. Talking and fighting is what I offer. I'm not a doctor. And if you don't want to, you don't want to.

[ Kiryu's not really about forcing people to do things unless they are being a heinous asshole. At the same time...

His voice goes a little harder. ]

It's not about the blame, Graham-san. Bright-sensei never saw his time with you as sessions. So when you told other people they were sessions, you made him look like he'd used his position to get a boyfriend. And because Bright-sensei didn't know that, he's been telling people you never were client and patient and it looks like he's a liar who's trying to cover his shitty choices.

And every time they hear him 'lie', he loses the trust of those people, trust that matters to him both as a warden and as a counselor while he starts to believe that no one will believe him and he doesn't know why. He has to believe it's someone like Sheehan-sensei because he'd never believe the person he loves the most would fuck him over for their own convenience.

[ Yeah, that's a very disappointed grunt. ]

I'll tell you straight, Graham-san: your 'concern' about them not believing you sounds a fuck of a lot more like you don't want to deal with fixing the mess you made for someone who cares about you than a real problem. But Sheehan-sensei and Jesus-san both trust me, so I'm willing to go to bat for both of you to at least get this settled for Bright-sensei's peace of mind.

And you owe it to Bright-sensei to fix this.

[ Ouch. Will rubs his neck as Kiryu gives him a dressing-down- one he knows he deserves, at least on some level. 'fuck him over for their own convenience' hits harder than he expects, though, and he has to purse his lips to keep from yelling at himself.

He puts his communicator down to rub at his face, and there's the sound of it clattering onto a table as he does so. ]

I do. If you think they'll listen to you...I can explain the situation to them, with you there. Or...however you think is best. I don't know if it'll matter to either of them. They'll probably think Malcolm shouldn't have allowed it to happen, regardless, considering his position. But I can certainly warn them about me, at least.

[ After a short pause: ] I'll try to be clearer with Malcolm about my role, as well. He...focuses on other things. I let him and I shouldn't have.

[ There's a somewhat-mollified grunt now, and a deep sigh. Good, the words got through. ~~He's not mad, he's disappointed.~~ ~~Okay, he's a little mad.~~ ~~...he's working through it.~~

~~The Enclosure is going to get punched a lot later.~~ ]

They might still have issues with it. Some wardens do.

[ He's not going to pretend differently. ]

But at least they'll know what decisions Bright-sensei made. And that he wasn't trying to lie or change the past.

[ Will lets out a shaky breath. ]

I can get that across, at least. I think.

I don't want to- I...damn it. I didn't think people would care.

[ He frowns a little but he nods to that. ]

When you've spent enough time fucked over by the system, it's hard to accept that it might be trying to protect anyone anywhere, even as weird as here.

Plenty of wardens have been fucked the same way. So they care.

I've had a lot of people claiming to protect me that fail me. Anyone who's been in charge of my mental well-being, in fact. Thirty-plus years worth of therapists. Every one I saw was worse than the last.

-until here....although I suppose that remains to be seen. It'd be difficult to find worse than the last two. So yeah, it's hard to accept. I've been here almost a year and I still expect to have the rug pulled out from under me.

But Malcolm's...I don't want him to pay for my paranoia. Or misanthropy, or whatever it is.

I'm an orphan who grew up in the system. You don't have to tell me. Not much for trusting people that way. And I've done some pretty extreme things because of it.

[ He tilts his head to one side. ]

I'm not saying accept everything. There's a balance to it.

[ Finding that balance had been a big part of all three of his inmate's graduations. ]

Hurting people you care about is when you need to re-evaluate your choices. That's all I'm saying. As someone who's done it and regretted it.

Edited 2023-12-17 16:06 (UTC)

[ He hums in a small agreement, thoughtful. ]

Guess we don't just stop that because we're in a new setting.

...were you ever an inmate here, Kiryu-san?

[ He shakes his head. But he will add- ]

Spent 13 years or so in a normal prison.

[ And Japanese prison doesn't kid around. ]

Damn. I had about a year at a max security mental hospital. It was like they were trying to fit as many traumatizing things into my short stay as they could. I can't imagine thirteen of those.

...but that does explain why I had a tough time telling if you'd...been through the system here or not. Usually my hunches are right. I guess you did most of your learning before you hit this place.

One kind of learning.

[ He firmly believes every one of his inmates has helped him as much as he's helped them. ]

I've been here long enough even this old dog has learned a few new tricks.

[ He'd be chuckling if things weren't so seriously messed up- or if he weren't the cause of the problem. ]

Sounds like you take every opportunity you get to learn something...I hope to get there, myself. Eventually.

[ He takes a deep breath in and lets it out. ]

All right, I've got...some people to talk to. Apologies to make. Malcolm first, I think.

[ He nods. It's very very obvious, even over video, that whatever frustration he had before was temporary. He likes Graham-san, respects him. If there's one thing he's learned over the years, it's that friends call out friends.

He's seen what happens when you don't. ]

Let's talk afterwards. It's been a while since we did. And I'd like the chance to help you get the fuck out of here.

[ He tips his head to one side. ]

Maybe we do some fishing?

[ Will gives Kiryu a wry smile. It doesn't feel like things aren't fixable, with the way Kiryu puts them. That's unusual, but Will is going to take it. ]

Fishing sounds great. Maybe I can make up Wolf Trap Creek in the Enclosure for you, show you my favorite place for it.

Sounds good. I've never been anywhere with that name, I don't think.

So do you want to start about this conversation you're having with Kiryu, or should I?

Sounds like you got to me first.

I'd like to talk to Malcolm about this before hashing it out with you, but- you are the warden. It's up to you.

My only stipulations are that we talk, and that we do it in a reasonable timeframe. Talking it over with Malcolm first is fine.

You doing okay?

Not...particularly. There's some behaviors of mine that I wasn't aware I was engaging in.

Yeah, Kiryu showed me his side of that conversation, too.

We'll get through it, though. Let me know when you've talked to Malcolm.

I will.

Thanks, for giving me the time.

Okay, I've talked with Malcolm. I'm planning on talking with Sheehan and Jesus, apologizing and explaining myself. I can do that with you or- however you want, honestly.

And I'm sorry for being...uncooperative towards you, too. For trying to pass it off like I was.

This happened, like, two weeks in, yeah? I'm a little annoyed you didn't clear things up with me in the meantime, but I'm not personally betrayed or whatever. It happened, it's not exactly unexpected in wardening, and we'll deal with it.

Do you wanna talk to them before you talk to me about it, or after?

It was more like two days. I knew people would want me in for therapy, so... [ He tried to get ahead of it, as it were. ]

I can talk to them first. But I'll do whichever you prefer.

I'm not interested in compliant Will Graham who'll do whichever I prefer right now. Which do you want to do, and why?

[ He takes in a breath and sighs it out. ]

I'd like to get this over with, personally. Before I lose this feeling of shame that I earned and I start emulating people I'd rather not, again. Before I let the whispers of how to smooth this over crawl into my brain.

I get that. And you worrying about that makes me want to be there. But I still want to know whether or not you'd prefer that, or whether you'd prefer to do it alone.

Oh. Uh...I do think they'd probably accept it more as fact if they know that both you and Kiryu are also aware of me manipulating things. I don't know if it'll fix anything, but that might mean they'd give Malcolm more consideration.

So I'd prefer if you were there.

Well, that makes things easy. Okay, set it up and we'll do it.

[Pause.]

And, uh-- we can talk about what I would've said if you'd said you didn't want me there, if you want.

[Them both wanting the same thing does make things easier this time, but she's under no illusions that that will always be the case - and she knows he has experience with his wants ultimately not mattering in the face of someone else's.]

...ah.

[ He thought she'd been giving him a choice. But that wasn't what she'd said, was it? ]

Sure. Were you expecting me to say no? That I'd rather try it alone?

I wasn't expecting anything. But I don't want you to think that if you'd said no, I would've said "too bad, so sad, I'm coming anyway", that's all.

Oh. Really? I thought you were noting that just now, so I'd know I--

[ All right, he's confusing himself, now. He clears his throat. ]

Forget it. Just thought you were pulling a Jack Crawford on me, that's all. -which, for the record, is basically "too bad, so sad." What would you have said?

I figured you would, which is why I kinda wanted to talk about the hypothetical.

I would have asked why. I would have listened. If I thought the explanation was a good one, I would have said, okay, go do it and we'll talk about it after. If I thought the explanation was crap I would've told you I thought it was crap, and told you why I thought it was crap, and given you a chance to respond. It would have been a really annoying amount of talking.

[ That last bit surprises a chuckle out of Will. ]

Yeah, most likely. Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll go...set some meetings up, then.

Okay. I'll see you when I see you.

Malcolm could see the emotional drain on Will after the meetings. He would only stay that night if Will wanted him to.

But the next day… the next day feels like time to unveil what he has been working on in the Enclosure.

He doesn’t tell Will what they’re going there for, but Will can probably tell he’s excited and also a little nervous. Apart from the crime scene, he has Will’s Christmas gift in his pocket and he hopes he likes it.

As they walk in, they’re in a park, a Victorian style greenhouse looming ahead of them. Malcolm grins and leads him there. On the floor is an elaborate crime scene featuring a young woman, dressed in a white gown and elbow length gloves surrounded by flowers.

Malcolm looks at Will and raises his eyebrows.

Edited 2023-12-21 03:34 (UTC)

Will walks into the Enclosure and something in his demeanor seems to settle when they enter. This place isn't any he recognizes, but it feels right. Comfortable. And he's here alone with Malcolm and there are no walls he has to put up.

He wasn't sure what Malcolm wanted to show him, but it becomes clear after they enter the greenhouse. He sees the body and his first instinct is to chuckle. He can't keep the grin in as he turns to his partner. "You really know how to cheer a guy up," he says, sincerely. He leans down for a quick kiss and adds, "Thank you. Did you come into this one with any info? Seems like the killer wanted her to be perfect. Or look perfect, anyway."

Will’s grin and then the kiss only make his grin larger and the fact that it’s just them means he doesn’t have to try to school his features like he would try to at a real crime scene.

“She’s the second in twenty-four hours and the media have already dubbed the killer ‘The Bridal Butcher’,” he explains excitedly. “And you’re not wrong about perfection; we’ll discover at the autopsy that this woman actually has heterochromia iridum. The reason both her eyes are blue right now? One of them has been replaced.”

He steps back a step from the display to give Will room to examine it from any angle he likes.

"Replaced? I wouldn't have guessed." He steps around the corpse display, placing himself the way the killer would want to once everything was set. One final perfect picture before they left. "There's a lot of white in the flowers, too. Projects innocence, virginal beauty. Not always what people want if they're getting married nowadays, but this is an idealized version. Almost childlike."

He circles around her, not seeing any wounds. She really looks like she's sleeping with her eyes open- or will until the body starts to decompose, anyway.

He crouches down around her head, notes the slight mishap with a false eyelash and reaches out to touch one eye. He taps it with his nail. Glass. He dips it in and tugs it out without hesitation. There's a thrill to messing with a crime scene like this, after the tape is up and everything. "The color matches perfectly. Do prosthetics lean towards glass anymore?" He looks up at Malcolm. "I would think it'd be medical-grade acrylic now."

Malcolm is almost giddy that he gets to tell him "It would be. It's a doll's eye. Custom made."

Edited 2023-12-21 21:46 (UTC)

"Really?" Will half-smiles at the glass eye, as he rubs a little eye-based viscera off of it. "So, this was either created by the killer or someone ordered it with our beauty in mind. They probably found someone who makes life-sized dolls. Hmmm."

He holds the eye out for Malcolm, who certainly doesn't need to see it, since he's solved this one already. But it's part of the fun, honestly. He quirks an eyebrow up at Malcolm. "You think we should try solving this normally, or should I...uh, do what I usually do?" It should work, with the amount of detail Malcolm's clearly put into this place. And this shouldn't mess with him like the Dragon did. It's not only been ages, but he's learned how to keep it from sticking quite so much.

Malcolm takes the eye from him without flinching, tossing it up in the air and catching it again with a grin.

“I think we should solve it whichever way you want to do it,” Malcolm tells him. “Because it’s your present. And also watching you work is extremely attractive either way.” He tosses the eye up and catches it again with a cheeky look.

Edited 2023-12-21 23:44 (UTC)

Will looks down with a small grin, almost looking like he's shy. ...he's not shy, he's just holding all the pleased feelings within himself and enjoying them. "All right, well. Guess I'll do my 'trick,' in that case. I'm not sure if it'll come 'out' or not, since I'm comfortable. Either way..." He looks up and smiles. "Give me a minute."

He looks down at the body, his expression smoothing over into something blank. He takes a deep breath in, closes his eyes, and the pendulum of light swings. And swings, and sweeps away anything not relevant, anything that time changed. Eventually, even the body is gone.

"I didn't kill her here," he murmurs, eyes still closed. "No, that would be disrespectful. Only the best for these girls, always. I drug them, lightly, so they're resting, then suffocate them slowly. The body doesn't even know it's dying. It's all...gentle." He sees himself bridal-carrying her into the area, set her down on the tarp, and move to grab bundles of flowers. "They might have rejected the strive towards perfection, but I haven't. I'm helping them...transforming them into their best selves. It's important that I do this."

He crouches over the body, like he's sleepwalking. His hand moves vaguely over the tableau. "I've watched them a lot, and I know what they need. I do her hair, I slide her gloves on, I arrange the flowers. I...flinch as I take out her eye, as I sever the optic nerve, but it must be done. She will be beautiful in ways I will never be, and she will be seen by all. This is my design."

His eyes flutter open and his head shakes- twitches, really. But he's back. He rubs at his face as he shifts to standing, part of his ritual to return to the real world. "Was I saying that out loud?" he asks Malcolm, genuinely unsure.

Malcolm is smiling a fainter but warmer smile. He nods. “And you’re right. My sister was covering this story and - in passing - I mentioned the gloves. She’s the one that recognized that these girls weren’t dressed as brides. They were debutantes.”

Another clue that he only learned by being told. His substitute for the crime lab Will had given him access to.

The reaction (or more, the lack of anything negative) is unexpected, even with knowing that this is how Malcolm would logically respond. Even with knowing that he only let his conclusions out for everyone to see because 'everyone' was Malcolm and he felt comfortable. Even with everything they can relate to each other on. And he realizes he'd been assuming that it was just 'off-putting,' the thing he does and there was nothing to be done about it.

He takes a moment to wrestle with the emotion that wells up. At the same time, the rest of the killer's feelings start to take their leave, receding into the background of his mind. He looks momentarily like he might cry, and it makes his eyes a bit shiny as he smiles warmly back at Malcolm.

"Debutantes?" he asks, his voice pleased and growing steadier with each word. "That's still a thing? I would've figured that'd be a little too embarrassingly traditional for the current 'rich elite.'"

It was remarkable and he lets Will compose himself afterwards, but when he picks up the line of questioning again, Malcolm steps over to give him a tender kiss before he answers, not stepping far out of his space to do so.

"Debutantes. My sister actually went to a hundred year old finishing school to learn etiquette and... other fake ways to be 'perfect'. But she never debuted. She dropped out of the program before that. Fun fact: both victims went to the same school. And so did the next one." He gives Will a cheeky look. "There isn't much that's too embarrassing for the rich elite."

The kiss wouldn't belong in this scene, except for the two of them here. Will basks in it, this unspoken support. The connection. And he breathes it in, settling and finding calm as he watches Malcolm's face.

He looks down with a chuckle at the last note, and adds, "I guess not. Did the victims 'debut'? Maybe this was supposed to be it for them." He quirks an eyebrow and looks at Malcolm. "Did you have to do anything like this? A...finishing school?" He honestly doesn't know how most of it works.

“Finishing schools are for girls, but I did go to an elite boarding school that was founded by my mother’s family and for which she still sits on the board. The incident I told you about - the boy that locked me in the janitor’s closet and my… retribution…” He doesn’t call it his murder this time. “That’s the school I got expelled from for it. I don’t think my mother has ever had much hope that I could be ‘perfect’, even if it were an option. She’s at the point where she’ll take ‘alive’ and ‘reasonably functional’.” He shrugs and smiles a bit. “I’m not sure I could gave sat through etiquette class with a straight face anyway.”

Will actually cracks a smile as Malcolm finally calls it something other than a 'murder'. Retribution sounds like the proper word for it, and he's proud of Malcolm for not taking that unearned guilt. But still- ugh. That place. "I would've been thrown out of both places before the end of the day, I imagine," he admits with a sly smile. "I feel bad for your sister's plight, though. Especially..."

He trails off and tilts his head. "Was she targeted too? Or- is asking spoiling the case?"

"It's not directly related. She was targeted too. Not... to that extreme of an extent, but... whispers. Comments. Snubs. We all were." He gestures to the body on the ground. "Do you want to see the school or the doll maker's workshop?"

Oops, Will had meant to ask if she was targeted by the killer, since she didn't 'debut'. But this is better for him to know in the long-term, anyway. And yeah, that's probably spoiling some things.

So he just rubs his chin for a moment, then says, "The school. A dollmaker would be a good candidate for a killer- someone who literally objectifies women, but...in this case, the eye is a 'fix.' Just like the murders are. The real heart of the matter is that they were imperfect girls, so let's check out where they-" He makes a face and his fingers come up to make air quotes. "correct that."

Malcolm grins because it's the right answer. He goes to the control panel and presses some buttons and now they're standing in the formal (kind of Victorian) entry hall of a so posh it feels musty mansion come school for girls. He looks at Will to decide where he wants to go.

Will just stands there for a long moment, somewhat disoriented. He blinks as Malcolm returns to his side, then starts looking all around. The way his eyes move, one might think he was uncomfortable in the space, and- well, that's true. However, more importantly, he's also gathering information. Small hallway, old building, smells like harsh, old-fashioned cleaners and perfume.

Eventually Will starts moving. He's not looking for people to talk to- even if this wasn't the Enclosure, he'd be peeking around every corner and gathering information for as long as he could without interacting with anyone. However, he is used to people taking some issue with this, so he's near silent as he does it. He walks through the hallway, exploring the first floor and hoping to find some offices. Some places with records.

Malcolm follows him, also silent as long as Will is doing his thing and not asking any questions. There is an office on this floor. An old fashioned desk. An old fashioned telephone. A filing cabinet. Old fashioned everything; the records aren't on a computer.

Perfect. Will starts opening the drawers to look into the records. he asks for the names of the victims and starts looking through them, also keeping an eye out for Ainsley. It doesn't take him too long to find all three and he notes, "They're very close in age. That might be significant. The headmistress here has been doing this for decades..."

"She has. Miss Windsor started this school when she was a young woman," Malcolm tells him. "But obviously she's in her fifties now. She considers all the girls that pass through her school her 'family'."

"Mmmhmmm. But does she consider the 'failures' her family?" he asks pointedly, albeit to the air. "Even the girls that don't debut? I'm sure that's not something she'd speak to polite company about, but maybe..."

He starts looking through other drawers and any daily planners he can find. "She'd have something written around that gives away her feelings..."

“She also lived here,” Malcolm tells him. “Her suite is on the second floor. And then there’s another room in the attic, where her assistant lives.”

Will's eyebrow raises and he stands up from his rooting around. "Oh. Well, no wonder there's nothing personal here. Let's go take a look."

He heads to the stairs, adding, "Her assistant lives here, too? That's...a little different. Not a debutante, I take it?" Because none of the girls who come here would need to take an assistant job. No, any job they did would have them front and center, most likely.

“No, indeed,” Malcolm agrees, following him. “Only the daughters of the finest families in the city could afford Miss Windsor’s School of Etiquette.” He could say more, but watching Will deduce it in real time is so much better.

"'Finest,'" Will repeats with a sneer, as he walks up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, his features soften, and he smiles at Malcolm. "Well. One of them produced you, so I suppose they're not all bad."

But Malcolm's answer did highlight the strangeness of the assistant being here. It's not really a live-in position, is it? More Miss Windsor's house, so unless the assistant was acting as a maid to Windsor-- he realizes an assumption he was already making. "She wouldn't have a male assistant living here with her. Too unbecoming. So-"

He sweeps past the living quarters for Windsor to find the access to the attic. That's the room he needs to see.

Malcolm grins as Will sweeps past Miss Windsor’s rooms to look for the attic.

“Many things are ‘unbecoming’ for a perfect lady. One must be proper. Silent. Chaste. Well-mannered. A gracious hostess.”

The attic bedroom is both old-fashioned and… childlike. Fairy lights. China dolls. Soft pastel bedding. Lace doilies. On a table by the door is a telephone. Beside it, a list of names, including Ainsley Whitly. The victims’ names are crossed off.

Edited 2023-12-27 03:03 (UTC)

Will walks into the attic, takes one look at it, and laughs. He heads for the dolls, picking one up and inspecting the eyes. "I think we found our culprit," he says definitively. "But-"

He cuts himself off when he sees the list. He'd been half-looking for a diary, but Ainsley's name is easy to make out. "Your sister get out of this whole thing okay?" There's no way Ainsley wouldn't be involved- even if she was a more...human person than Freddie, she was still a journalist. No way would she pass up investigating something she already had connections to.

“Oh, she used herself as bait,” Malcolm tells him. “Pretended to pass out after pretending to drink the roofied tea and I found them in this very room where Miss Windsor’s secret illegitimate daughter was preparing her lethal dose while Ainsley was prone on the bed. Annnd then I had to stop Ainsley from stabbing her. And then we had to get out of here because Miss Windsor turned on all the gas lines and lit a match.”

Will chuckles in relief as he realizes Ainsley was just as quick a thinker as Malcolm was. His eyebrows climb as he hears 'secret illegitimate daughter'- that's a hell of a motive- and he laughs more bitterly at hearing about Miss Windsor. "What a petty wretch. Couldn't be there for her daughter, couldn't stand anyone else knowing that her house had been built on 'lies.' Like that wouldn't come out after her death."

He looks around at the room, smiling in the satisfaction of solving the puzzles. As his eyes meet Malcolm's, he grins. "Were you able to get out with no stabbing happening? Did you get the daughter out of here? What was the actual murder method, morphine?"

“It was a combination of rohypnol and the use of a debreather. The actual cause of death was asphyxiation rather than poisoning… sorry, ‘lethal dose’ was misleading. She would dose them more to make sure they were well out and then suffocate them ever so gently to death,” he explains.

"No, no. Just checking to see if I was right. Although I was picturing more of a pillow on a face than an actual debreather- that is gentle."

He's energized, almost giddy (well, as giddy as he gets) about finding this place. He turns over the idea of trying to stab this young woman in his mind- he doesn't think he'd fall to that immediately. There's clearly a child's mentality here. She was never allowed to 'debut,' to grow up like all those around her were. "Were there clues in the dollmaker's place, too? Might've led to the assistant too, I bet."

“She couldn’t risk any physical damage to the body,” Malcolm says, grinning just as giddily. “Not even the generally faint but very telltale signs of asphyxiation like the stippling around the mouth. The debreather left them… unmarred.”

At the question about the dollmaker, he smiles broadly again. “That was mostly a dead end, except we discovered that he made custom dolls for the school. Every girl that debuted received a perfect china doll made in their image. JT and Gil brought the dollmaker in as a suspect, but I talked to him for like a minute and I knew it wasn’t him. Wrong psychosexual problem. He’s an agalmatophiliac. You chose the right path to the correct suspect.”

He nods along with Malcolm's reasoning. Of course she couldn't risk damage to the body. They had to be perfect. The further explanation about the dollmaker has Will smiling very genuinely. He did pick the right path. Not that they wouldn't have gotten there otherwise, but he didn't make a mis-step.

"What this is telling me," he says, extremely pleased. "-is that we'd have a much easier time of it, if everyone just got out of our way."

Malcolm laughs. "Right? Or... listened to us ever. That would help too," he jokes. He pauses. Shifts his weight. "Um. I was wondering... if it's okay to give you your Christmas present today." He gestures around them. "Okay, I mean your other Christmas present!" he corrects, acknowledging the case was also a gift. "I know it's a little early, but I'm dying," he says, fidgeting.

Will laughs, too, and he's still chuckling as Malcolm mentions that he's dying. "Okay, okay. I'm sure you are. But first-" Will reaches out for Malcolm's hand and grabs it to pull the man into his arms. He gives Malcolm a short but gentle kiss. "Thank you for this. It's been...extremely satisfying."

That just makes him light right up. He completely forgets Christmas present urgency for the moment. Will is smiling. Happy, even. And he did that. He affected someone's happiness and improved it. When the kiss breaks, he doesn't draw away much, just studies Will's face with a pleased, almost awed expression on his own.

"I'm so glad you liked it," he says softly.

It just takes that smile on Malcolm's face for Will to resolve to use his words even more often around Malcolm. He has no end of gratitude for the man, and Malcolm deserves to know every bit of it.

He lets them just back in their mutual happiness for a few moments. Then he dips his head down and laughs again. "So I have something for you, too. Looks like neither of us could wait. But...you first."

Malcolm reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box, clutching it in his hand for a moment and taking a breath.

"Okay. I'm excited. But I'm nervous. But I'm excited," Malcolm tells him, grinning.

He holds the box out for him. It contains a ring; not completely dissimilar to the one he got Malcolm, but unique. More Will-like, Malcolm feels. Underneath it, there's a chain large enough to fit around a wolf's neck. Will would know how Malcolm carries his own ring when he changes. He watches Will's face once he takes it.

Will opens the box and- ...well. Now isn't that perfect. His eyes shine as reaches for it and rolls it under his fingers. "It's beautiful," he admits, holding it close to his eyes briefly before sliding it onto his left ring finger. "A little darker, but still..." He looks up to Malcolm, failing at hiding his smile. "A matched set."

Malcolm touches his knuckles, a sort of fidget as he explains “you said you see onyx for yourself, but gold was starting to peek through. And it’s stone and gold bonded to titanium. Practically indestructible,” he adds. He looks up at his face. “Because you’re made of tougher stuff.”

Will laughs again, but it's a quiet, surprised thing this time. It's even a little shy. "I...uh." His mind is a scatter of fireworks. He has to regroup. "I don't know how you manage to be so sweet, and yet so insightful. And so real. I love it. I love you."

He's not sure if he's made sense, even to himself. But he knows that last sentence did. His eyes are watery as he throws his arms around Malcolm's shoulders, tugging him close.

Will's words, his emotions, his happiness fill Malcolm up. He squeezes him back, holding on tight.

"I got you a chain, too, so you can keep it with you when you're a wolf."

"I saw it," he says, still grinning. "That's worked well for you, I'm sure it'll be great. Then, even as wolves, people are going to know." They'll probably be the only ones wearing things, after all.

He leans his head against Malcolm's and hugs him close, just breathing the scent of him in. But he does finally kiss the top of his head and a small wrapped present finds its way into one of Malcolm's hands. It's very obviously a pill bottle.

"Our roles are reversed," Will says, the smile plain in his voice. "I got you something practical, but- I think you'll like it. I hope so."

The bottle inside the wrapping has instructions like a prescription ('Take one before meal' and 'quantity: 30'). But the pills inside are an iridescent color and the label indicates that they're for the enjoyment of a full meal.

Malcolm reads the label, then looks up at Will with wide eyes.

“Does this mean… what it means?” he asks with a hint of hope breaking his voice a little. It seems too good to be true.

"They're magic pills," Will replies, only slightly deprecating. They really are, even if he sounds like a five-year-old saying it.

"They should let you enjoy whatever meal you eat after you take I've- no queasiness, no needing to worry about which foods might be okay or not. You can just enjoy yourself." Will smiles. "I wanted you to have the option before Christmas dinner."

Malcolm stares at them, then stares at Will, then stares at them, then stares at Will, then a stunned smile blooms belatedly, like it’s finally hit him and left him dazed.

“…I can eat Christmas dinner? Like… all of the dinner?”

"You can," he says, with a grin. He'd love to always put a smile like that on Malcolm's face.

"I don't even know what that's going to be like, but it sounds great!" Malcolm laughs. He throws his arms around Will's neck and hugs him tight. "Thank you."

Will hugs him back, eyes closing as he tilts his head back. This is perfect. "You're welcome. I look forward to seeing how it works out. I wasn't vague with my request, but...asking was kind of a whim. I figured there'd be caveats, but no."

He opens his eyes and sees his ring on his finger, snug like it's always belonged there. This isn't the first important ring he's worn. He suspects it'll be the last, though.

"What are you feeling for the rest of the afternoon?" Malcolm asks. "My cabin? Locked door? Dogs and books?"

[The door closes on the library, and Shaw follows Will along to wherever he starts walking, quiet for the first fifty or so paces.]

Those were both a lot.

[She finally says, once they're out of sight of the main library door.]

How're you doing?

Edited 2024-01-04 05:38 (UTC)

[ Will is quiet as well, rubbing at his face occasionally as if he's having a hard time keeping his eyes open. ]

...I don't know, if I'm honest. Tired, definitely. Feeling... [ He shakes his head. ] Second guessing myself, half-formed questions and unfinished answers.

[ He snorts at his own description and shakes his head again. ] Like I said. I'm jumbled up, more than anything. I...imagine I'll settle down soon.

I thought it was weird how personally they both took it.

[Shaw muses, still following.]

It was all about how they felt betrayed as your friends instead of anything to do with your progress as an inmate, which at first I was thinking was unproductive, but, uh--

[She pauses, pursing her lips.]

Going along with the idea of this place being some kind of proving ground, I can see how it'd be good for you to have to work out how to deal with that. You wanna talk about the jumbled-up parts first, or rest first? You look like you can barely walk straight.

[ He considers, then shrugs. ]

The rest'll go better if I actually untangle this some, I think. Can we head to my place to talk?

[ As they're walking, he suddenly coughs a bit, or- not it's a bitter little chuckle. ]

I was just thinking that I-- miscalculated. I didn't expect personal feelings to enter into this, either. And they both seemed so betrayed, yeah, by how manipulative I was, but....if I'd actually been good at it- [ Like Hannibal. ] -no one would've noticed. So it's more that I tried and failed, or...tried and decided to come clean.

[She bounces her head in response to the question; lead the way, Will.]

Or a mix of both? Seems to me like you tried, failed to realize how far-reaching the effects of it had gotten, and decided to come clean. You didn't fail at the manipulation, but you failed to realize that it might have effects beyond one little twist.

Mmmm. [ It's a hum of agreement, of thoughtfulness. ]

Yeah. Could be...they felt I didn't regard them or their feeling or their morals enough. I truly thought they were just raising concerns to...show they cared, you know? The sort of care where no one actually does anything, they just talk about it.

-that sounds...derogatory, but. I don't mean to be, it's just-

[ He shakes his head. ]

The possibility of therapist malpractice is not the sort of thing I've seen people overreact to.

Personally, I think it's weird to call them all therapists in the official medical sense, when any warden who feels like it can walk in and request a key - and I think it's weird that this is the ethical hill people are ready to die on when so much else gets thrown completely out the window. Doesn't mean I don't think it'd be bad judgement for someone to try to fill all those roles at once, but, uh-- you know what I mean?

Ah...no, not exactly.

[ He's only mildly confused, though. And this is probably a better topic to go into than a rant on ethical hills. ]

'Fill all those roles at once'?

Counselor and boyfriend. Or therapist and boyfriend, or... whatever term people want to use for what's basically just a peer-to-peer support group. Doing counseling office sessions with you and trying to date you at the same time would have been a bad choice. Doesn't mean I think it would have been the exact same thing as medical malpractice between a licensed therapist and a patient who's paying them, though.

Oh, right. Of course. I would understand if people were concerned, by that point. But that's not what we were doing.

[ He's quiet until they reach the elevator. The door closes and he speaks up again. ]

I...need to apologize to you, too. I didn't lie directly, but indirectly...a lot. In little ways, about this. I don't know if it would've been better if I kept trying to convince you or straight-up refused to go, but it definitely would be less...complicated, right now.

[Once they're in the elevator and she doesn't have to pay attention to where she's going, she turns to look at him straight-on, regarding him thoughtfully.]

Lemme ask you a question. When I said I wanted you to talk to all the counselors, what did you think I wanted you to do in those sessions?

[ Will's eyebrows shoot up. ]

Be...counseled? Work on my many and varied emotional issues so you don't have to decipher all of them?

[She shoots him a fingergun.]

Nope. I mean-- I didn't not want you to proactively work on your issues, but I wasn't expecting you to do it - not right at the start, and not with strangers, especially not with your history. Do you remember what I said when we talked about it back then?

[ Will frowns slightly. ]

Apparently not.

[Apparently no offense is taken; she doesn't look annoyed, or bothered in any way.]

I told you I wanted you to get some broad exposure to therapists who aren't dicks. People who say they want to help people work through their issues, and who actually mean it.

As far as I was concerned, just chatting with them? Not actually a problem.

....oh.

[ The elevator opens and he starts the walk towards his little corner of the Barge, not speaking until they get near his door. ]

Well. I guess I've done that.

[ He opens his door- the dogs in their beds all wag a sedate greeting, and he heads over to pet them. ]

My item says you're somewhere called "the Wilds". How wild are we talking?

Edited 2024-01-26 03:40 (UTC)

Hey, Shaw. Pretty damn wild, which wouldn't be a problem if it were normal nature. There's some things that have attacked us. We're fine. Once the Admiral made the announcement, I made sure I had my weapons on me. Malcolm did, too.

Where are you? Did you get tossed off, too?

Did you hear the second announcement? "Waters of death, fight the current, avoid the call of the stars"?

Yeah, I heard that, but-

You're in the waters of death? What does that even mean?

Still... trying to figure that out, actually.

All right, well. I suppose it doesn't matter, if all you're doing is looking for a way out. Is it deep? Are there fish? Monsters?

There's at least one other person from the Barge stuck in here, and the Admiral says he can't get us out. Rescue missions are all on us.

[And she knows what her job is on that front.]

No fish. Water depth is variable; I went over a waterfall at one point, but it's not too bad where I am now. Monsters are-- let's go with manageable.

Manageable is good. Waterfalls sound less good.

[ He's quiet for a moment, then lets out a huff. ]

I'll see if I can get more information on how to get out of there. I assume there's a trick or five. You'll keep in touch, right? Let me know if you find anyone else, if anything changes?

Teamwork. I like it.

I thought about trying to get a headcount, but with all the people overboard and all the different ways to lose a comm down here, I'm not sure how useful it'd be. It took me hours to find a place calm enough to pull mine out and start calling people.

Might not hurt to just collect who you can on the way out. Once...you find a way out.

I'll be keeping an eye out for people who got lost in the Wilds. Some of them might not fare so well in the wilderness. There's at least one abandoned town around here, though, so maybe we can use that for shelter. We can try to make a base, if that works.

My gun's not working, by the way. I'm using one of Malcolm's scimitars until I can fix it.

[ He assumes she won't have a problem with that, in this situation. ]

I don't plan on leaving people behind.

[In other words - once she finds a way out, she'll be doing what she can to get people there, and then diving right back in.]

What happened to your gun? Mine's waterlogged, but if you're topside--

[ Will groans. It's not the gun, it's Shaw's plan. He will have this argument with her later. Hopefully it won't come to that. ]

I'm not sure. It jammed on the second shot- I don't have the tools to fix it.

It's all right. Most of what's out here seems zombie-like, but not with enough numbers to actually be a threat.

If you really are contemplating going in there, you’re not going without me. But I don’t think it’s the smart move, putting our fingers in the same finger trap.

I'm not. I won't. I just...

[ He heaves a sigh. ]

I wish my opinion mattered, just once, when I wanted it to.

I told her this is a form of selfishness. I really think it is. I’m sorry.

I'm the selfish one. I don't- I know what she's doing, and why. But there's so many people on board that are less at risk. We've got necromancers. We've got a freaking necromancy god here.

You’re not being selfish, Will. She doesn’t understand what her job actually is here. It’s facilitating your graduation. Do you know how many people pressed my nose into that notion when I was concerned about not being able to see you without her chaperoning after Avalon? But is she doing that? I think sometimes she really is. I think many things about her are a good match for you. But then something happens and she absolutely has to be the only person qualified to run off and play Rambo all over the universe, like nobody else on board can handle anything, like you said. It’s a compulsion. And then she almost invariably gets killed and ends up tolling or dropping into a coma and what is she doing for you then? I mean, I’m probably not being fair to her right now, but it’s hard to, because she won’t listen to anybody and she won’t take the forever death and its likely powers and wiles to suck people into it at all seriously and it’s aggravating as hell. And you know what? If she does survive, she’s going to think she was right and I’m going to be an irrational coward for trying to warn her off. And the only other possible outcome is even less preferable than that.

[ Will takes all of that in quietly, and it's clear in the video that he's rolling over that in his mind. Finally, he lets out a small sigh. ]

Yeah. It's not that I don't understand that. I've...done similar things. Hell, I've actually gone to fights expecting to die, just because I thought it'd save more people. But I wasn't- I didn't have any options then.

I don't know why I'm even- I get it. Maybe it's because she's out there and I'm still in here, and it feels like...not enough. But this entire boat is practically full of- of 'heroes', where we're all used to being the Only One who can help people. And if we all followed that instinct, every one of us would be in that goddamn river.

[ He still sounds like he's searching, because he's not sure why he got so upset, he just knows that he was. Is? Was. ]

...she's having me watch Bear and Jet. I think she knows it'll help.

...Are you at her place or are you bringing them to yours?

I'm bringing them here. On the off-chance Root wakes up, I don't want to subject her to all that craziness.

...was sort of hoping I could bring you here tonight, too. Would that be okay?

[He's relieved; for a second he was worried he'd said too much, gone too far, even if Will hadn't reacted strongly.]

I can come any time you want.

[Like now, even. Even now would be fine.]

I already grabbed a shower and a change of clothes so I don't wreak of zombie gore and sweat and mud anymore. [He hadn't noticed when they were down there, busy with it, but he sure could smell his own self when he got back to his cabin.] Might have to burn the clothes I was wearing, though.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure mine are done for, too. No washing machine can get this much blood out.

[ He sounds tired but relatively content as he continues: ] Give me an hour and a half, about? Harkin's coming over with Jax. I just want to sit with some dogs on me and not think, as much as I'm capable. Probably use the helmet some.

Not a problem. Just call me whenever you want me to come. Say hi to Sweeney for me. I'll probably just be... enjoying some silence and lack of social pressure until then. This week was fun until the whole... people are stuck in the Death River thing. But it was also a lot of... Peopling. And I don't mean you. I mean other people.

Yeah. A lot of Peopling.

[ He very much agrees, even if it was broken up by plenty of violence for a palate cleanser. ]

I'll give you a call when I'm free. Feel free to call before that if you want. I'm gonna be attached to you like a lamprey when you're here, though, so plan accordingly.

[ Warning given, he'll say goodbye and will call almost exactly an hour and a half later, asking for Malcolm to come by. ]

[The lamprey warning does it: he’s smiling down at his feet when he hangs up the phone.

He takes the intervening time to feed Sunshine and check in with a few people. When Will calls, he shows up with his overnight bag, even though he’ll probably steal the shirt Will is wearing to sleep in. He still needs the other stuff in it: namely his meds. He’s carrying a rolled up yoga mat, which he drops by the door. His extra restraints have been attached to Will’s bed for a while now. He also has a blanket draped over his arm. He drops his overnight bag and holds up the blanket as he moves towards Will. Their snuggling blanket from his couch.]

It seemed like a good evening for the blanket.

[ Will gets up from the couch as Malcolm comes in, swaying slightly as the dogs reach Malcolm to greet him. Will gets over there eventually, though, hugging him close. He seems in better spirits, if only because he's been consuming said spirits. He hardly drinks at all anymore, so he wonders if that's lowered his tolerance. ]

It's a very good evening for the blanket. God, no wonder my dogs would steal mine sometimes. This one just smells right.

[ He makes a show of sniffing it and sighing, a small smile on his face. He starts moving over to the couch, not flopping down on it only to be careful of excited dogs. ]

Did you get some good quiet time in? I know it's only been a couple of hours, but you never know here.

[Malcolm smiles as the dogs mob him before Will gets there, reaching down to scritch behind some ears until Will arrives and Malcolm squeezes him back just as tightly. He had a small glass of scotch himself, so he's not one to talk about the smell of whiskey.]

I got enough of it. [Malcolm says of Quiet Time, curling the blanket around Will before wrapping himself into the other half as he settles in next to him.] You time is better. [More soothing. More relaxing. More calming. He presses a kiss to Will's temple, then curls up against his shoulder.]

Mmm, yeah.

[ Will agrees, taking a big breath and sighing with happiness as they settle together. It's almost automatic by now, the way they snuggle together under the blanket, Will adjusting so that Malcolm's more comfortable leaning on him. ]

Think it took some time for me to shift from this past week to being on the ship again. Not that I'd want to live out there, just...it felt nice to be making my own choices, helping people on my own terms. Doing it with you.

[ His eyes dart over to look at Malcolm and he smiles. ]

[Malcolm smiles.]

Like how it’s going to be when we’re done here. Except we’ll have even more freedom in terms of where we can go.

[He lifts his head and looks at Will.]

I had a lot of fun, you know. On the planet. Doing all that. That’s not weird, right?

[ Will smiles so wide his eyes close. He looks practically blissful that way. ]

How would I know if it's weird? But we both enjoyed it. That's the important thing.

It felt like...I don't know, a preview of what we might have in a couple of years. What we're meant to be doing. Except maybe I'll be a little more practiced with your historical weaponry. You, of course, were fantastic the whole time.

[ He rolls just a bit to kiss Malcolm on the head. ]

[His smile gets broader, brighter.]

I’ll practice with you more. …In the Enclosure, where I can’t accidentally kill you.

[His fingers fidget absently with a button on Will’s shirt.]

I think it means we’ve made the right plans for our future, that it felt so right. And… for a little while at the start, it was like we were the only two people on the planet and it was… peaceful. Even with the monsters and stuff. Because that kind of threat is quantifiable, but removing… society really took more pressure off than I expected. I guess… I guess I knew that I live with a sort of constant awareness of… of the gaze and expectations of other people, but I really thought… I thought it didn’t affect me like it used to. Well. It doesn’t affect me like it used to. But. It’s still… a Thing. Which is annoying. [He scrunches up his nose a little at the thought.]

[ From here. ]

Will had checked on the dogs first thing when they were yanked back on the ship. Fine, both fine. He'd headed back to his cabin to get things settled and finally change his clothes when the Admiral's announcement hit.

Thank fuck Harkin offers to come over. Will gratefully opens the door for him- which creates a small explosion of dogs. Buster and Winston are very happy to see both Harkin and Jax, and there is much tail wagging and sniffing. Will ushers Harkin inside with a tired smile and closes the door before the doggy meet-and-greet can truly get rolling.

"You want a drink?" he asks his brother, in lieu of their normal 'hey' and 'hey' greeting. Because yeah, he would like one too, right now. He's already moving towards his little cabinet of foodstuffs and glasses.

Sweeney's a step inside and halfway to sitting when Will offers him a drink. It makes him pause, bent in between start and destination, while he considers it. Normally, he'd decline appreciatively. But with all the bullshit that seems to be rolling in:

"That'd be great."

He finishes his decent, plopping on the floor and waiting his turn to greet each dog once they've finished with each other.

"'m glad yer safe. That Malcolm is." Those fates are undeniably bound, so there's comfort in knowing that either one is.

As Sweeney sits down, two more dogs join the group- Jet and Bear, whom Shaw asked Will to look after. Bear is exceptionally well-behaved, waiting until prompted to come near for pets. Jet...slightly less so. He finishes sniffing the other dogs and shoves his face in Sweeney's, licking his chin.

Will continues his quest, since Hark's not saying no. Will himself doesn't drink much anymore, but he's glad for the excuse tonight. He has to squeeze past a couple of canvases- the non-living-room side of his cabin is starting to resemble an art supply storehouse- but it doesn't take him long. Soon he's joining Harkin on the floor, with an unmarked bottle of whatever whiskey is at this port. He sets two glasses up on the coffee table next to him and just enjoys the swarm of dogs.

"Hope we didn't worry you," he tells Harkin, sincerely. "I suppose if we really wanted to be safe, we should've stayed in the city. But I was more comfortable out there. We did try to be careful."

He pours for both of them, just a splash for now, and holds a glass out for his brother. "If this is terrible, I'll break out the space station bottle. I know that stuff's good." Nothing wrong with experimenting, though, right?

Edited 2024-02-03 18:04 (UTC)

"Worry me?" He looks up from the herd of smacking tails and slobbery tongues with a knowing expression.

"You mean while ya were out there with fuckin' monsters an' a literal river of Death?" A beat passes with that brotherly stare of 'what do you fucking think?'. Sweeney takes the glass when it's offered.

"I think ya underestimate how low my standards are." He rethinks the statement, pausing before he gets the rim to his lips.

"It gin?"

Because then he might reconsider his stance.

Will's shoulders hunch up, much like when Harkin would lecture him for taking needless risks back in Seattle. It takes him a moment to notice that and forcibly shove them down again. He rubs at his face.

"Nah, it's whisky. Or whatever they have here that passes for it." Because they haven't left this world yet.

He swallows before he speaks, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing. "I should've checked in more. I'm sorry. Most of it wasn't dangerous for me. But...not all."

At the clarification of the cup's contents, Sweeney tips his head in approval. His tone makes it clear that he's moved past the requisite chiding phase, and has no lingering issues with the topic.

"Knew ya were with Malcolm. That's all that was really needed. Forests don't tend ta give wolves too much trouble, even filled with predators, an'...I know ya got Gaius as a backup." What else is needed at the end of the day? At the time, he didn't know anyone could get stuck.

"F'gured when the stop was wrappin' up, if ya couldn't find yer way back, the Adm'ral'd scoop ya up, like he does. And..." Sweeney takes a moment to consider the words, trying to capture the idea succinctly.

"If the worst were ta happen, an' there was no undoin' it, you were with the one person in the world ya should be. You two, together. Whate'er was ta come."

That's important. What he'd done wrong those years ago. Not 'done wrong', maybe. But had to carry the weight of, all the same.

Will grimaces a little, first at his first sip of booze and then at the reminder of the worst possible outcome.

"Yeah, we definitely did get scooped up. What the Admiral said about the river, we took it seriously. I didn't want to risk getting 'detached' from the boat." He downs the rest of his glass, suddenly needing more of the burning. "Either I'd go back to death or...I wouldn't die, and that'd be worse."

He shakes his head. "But it wasn't bad. Mostly zombie-like things, a few other abominations. We felt good, being able to help by fighting things. Keeping the stragglers from the river safe."

The puff of air isn't a proper snort, just a quiet sound lost in his tipped glass.

"Still strange ta me, Malcolm wantin' ta do violence." The man always seemed so...well, not delicate, but adverse. Like he feels there should always be another, better, solution.

The alcohol isn't bad, and he tips his head to Will in appreciation for it.

Thinking about Malcolm in that context has Will leaning back against his couch, an admiring smile on his face. It very effectively kicks Will out of his current worries.

"Oh, he's exceptionally good at it. Skilled, efficient. Graceful as he goes about it, even. It seems like his natural state. And that's why..." Why he could never accept it. "He works very hard to give himself another choice. A way to disarm, a way to talk someone down. Most everything down there, thankfully, was pretty mindless. He was able to let loose without guilt."

"Oh, there's a difference between bein' good at somethin' an' wantin' ta do it." Sweeney knows that shit all too well. He sighs and sips his drink.

"Just not sure what tempers him. If it's guilt or shame or love fer the common man." Or whatever, the small shake of his head suggests.

[This and this, while Shaw is still stuck in the river of Death.]

Raylan and Neal are going away for a bit. An undefined bit.

[ Will is already in the process of grabbing the leashes by the time he answers. His own expression is blank- he looks like he's in the middle of still processing the information. But Malcolm needs him, and that's a fact. ]

I'm heading to your place. Who told you? Raylan?

Yeah. Well. Sort of? Neal was talking about going on a trip. Taking a break for his mental health. But I guess he’s finalized plans to go with Raylan to his world. So at least they’ll both have someone to look after them.

Until they get back.

[ Will listens, parses, and then frowns. If the amount of time is 'an undefined bit,' it matters who told him that part. With Neal, he couldn't stand lying to Malcolm about something so important as leaving for good. Raylan? He couldn't stand being honest about it, Will's pretty sure.

Both, though? He's not sure if that means a permanent, intentional goodbye or not. He spends the time it takes to get Buster and Winston on their leashes to think it over. ]

I'm so sorry, Malcolm. Guess we've both been on the Barge long enough for people we're close with to start leaving.

I'm coming over and I'm bringing the dogs. Are they leaving right away?

Not, like… today. I don’t know exactly when.

[There’s a pause.]

I knew Francis’ work was done with Hilbert’s graduation. [It still devastated him and it’s still recent enough to be raw, but he understood it.] I… Neal has a lot of things he still wants to do here. And Raylan… he isn’t… he shouldn’t go. Happiness isn’t waiting for him yet. He thinks he can’t have that or maybe that he doesn’t deserve it. That means his work isn’t done either.

[ Will nods and slings a small pack over his shoulder. He heads out of his cabin. ]

Raylan needs to believe that he can be happy, it sounds like. I know...that problem. I don't know if being here would've helped me, or if I ever would've figured it out on my own.

[ He lets out a sigh. ]

Unfortunately, that's his decision to make. And if he's told you about it, his mind's made up. We'll just have to go pester him a bunch, once I can.

He said we can. He wants us to. But. That’s… he’s going to come back, though. Before that.

[ Will frowns, not even trying to hide that he doesn't believe it. But he's hardly going to argue the point right now. ]

Okay.

Want me to pick up some dinner on the way over?

....Oh. That's probably a good idea. I, um. Thank you. For coming. I don't... know what to do. I guess I can't do anything, really.

The only thing to do right now is take care of you.

[ He says it with a sad smile on his face. ]

I'm going to keep the video on until I see you in person, okay? Might not talk the whole time, but you should know I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere but to you.

[He lets out a ragged breath he didn’t know he was holding. Grief mingling with relief.

Will always knows what’s pressing on Malcolm’s throat before he can even analyze it himself.

For just a second, he worries that it’s an imposition, but he actually stops and thinks… what if Will was upset about something? Would he consider being there an imposition?

He wouldn’t.]

I can make tea. Do you want tea?

[ Will has considered the possibility of this happening to him. Shaw leaving, even though she's told him she's committed (he believes it sometimes, and sometimes he can't). Harkin graduating and getting out of Dodge as quickly as possible. He knows he would fall completely apart. So- yes, he knows what's pressing on Malcolm's throat. Even if he didn't have his condition, he would.

And if he knew Malcolm's brief consideration and refusal to entertain it, he'd be really proud of him. As it is, his smile turns slightly stronger and he nods. ]

I'd love tea. Do you still have that mint, sage, and chamomile one?

[His expression brightens a shade.] Yes! I’ll get some going. [He stands up his phone against the water pitcher on the counter so he’s still on the screen while he gets it down from the cupboard and puts the kettle on.] Mint is a good idea. [He scoops some into a diffuser.] A good idea. I feel a little sick.

I know, love.

[ He doesn't know where (or even who) the endearment comes from, but it still spills from his lips. ]

Hang in there. Focus on making the tea and I'll be there when it's finished. And I'll hug you for so long, you'll wonder if I'll ever let go.

[ It's a speed run through the commissary and then the dining hall, and luckily they have some blander food ready to go. The dogs stick with him, noting how focused he is.

He makes it just before the tea is done steeping. He leaves the video on the whole time. ]

[He concentrates on the tea, like Will says, keeping half an eye on the camera feed. When he sees his own door opening on the screen, he hurries around the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so Will has a chance to let the dogs roam free in the apartment and put down his bag and whatever he picked up on the way. When he finally gets wrapped up in the most soothing of arms, his voice is muffled by Will’s shoulder.]

I don’t want you to ever let go.

[ Will doesn't take long to get things situated, encircling Malcolm with his weight and warmth as soon as he sets down the bag of food and unleashes the dogs. He squeezes him close. ]

And you don't have to.

[ It's meant figuratively, but he'll make a go of it if Malcolm meant it literally, too. Will figures they could make it a couple of weeks without letting go, if they really wanted to. ]

I'm yours. Forever.

[He can't breathe, in the good way and the bad way because too much is happening but he doesn't want air. Will feels like the only thing anchoring him to the room. He can have that forever, Will says. He manages to take a breath.]

I can't just... make new friends. It doesn't work like that for me.

I know.

[ He leans his head against Malcolm's. If he can help hold him here, then Will can be of more help to him. He thinks, anyway. ]

And even if you do make a new friend, they're not going to be the same. ...it's a loss, Malcolm. A significant one. You're allowed to mourn them. To grieve.

But it's like Francis. They're going because they want to go. Their friends are supposed to support that, right? To be a good friend I have to support what they want to do? It's selfish to want them to stay here where they're not happy.

You can feel both, at the same time. Even with it being contradictory. And...you tell your friends the support part, and maybe even about the part that misses them, but you hold onto the rest of that hurt for yourself. Let yourself feel it. Get through it with someone who understands.

[ He pulls back just enough so Malcolm can see his small smile. He's blinking back tears from his eyes, knowing how much Malcolm was hurting. How much he felt Wrong, even for that. ]

[He holds Will’s gaze for the moment, a little damp and blurry himself, then finally nodding, even as he sniffles a little.]

At least they’re going together. [That’s what he keeps saying.] To look after each other. Like we’re going to. [His hands move anxiously, from a shoulder along a seam to an elbow, from a pocket to a collar, like they’re just making sure everything inside that shirt is solid and real.] And they’re coming back in a bit. Neal says a couple of months, probably.

[ Will's hands, meanwhile, only move to smooth over Malcolm's back and shoulders. It's the way he can hug him tighter without actually losing the ability to speak (or squeezing Malcolm too hard). ]

If Neal said so, then I believe it. I know something happened over Christmas, and he needs to get his head on straight. That's pretty tough to do here...for most people, anyway.

[ Will doesn't ever ask Malcolm about Neal, and he doesn't generally guess at it either. He knows Neal hates that. But to ease Malcolm's panic? He'll psychoanalyze Neal all day. ]

[Malcolm bites his lip, nodding, and considers that.]

You know how I walk if I wake up during the night, when... we don't stay together. One night I saw him go into the Lounge at, like, three in the morning. He was upset about how Wardens reacted to the way he presented the mediation office. I told him I thought he made his appeal to the wrong group. He should have asked the inmates what they wanted to see, not the wardens. But he was... inconsolable. I haven't heard much about the mediation office since then. I hope he hasn't given up on it. I thought it was a good idea.

[He frowns faintly, then looks up at Will's face.]

I know everyone is here temporarily, but it's just been... a lot more temporarily for some people than I thought it would be. What if Neal and Raylan like living in Miami and don't come back? If they're happy there, they don't need any more deals from here. If they like what they're doing there, they don't need to come back here and finish work that doesn't feel appreciated anyway.

[ Will takes a few moments to lick his lips and think all that over. ]

...I don't think Neal would be satisfied with leaving his project unfinished. It would bother him too much. He'll want to come back. It only depends on if he and Raylan get caught up with something in Miami. In which case, they'll need our help...

We're going to have to remember to request some line of communication people can reach us by, in our little interdimensional houseboat. I'd want people to be able to call us, if they need help.

[ But he's getting off-topic, and he really shouldn't right now. He shakes his head. ]

I thanked Neal, by the way. After that post. It's a topic that's been important to me since I got here, what turns this place from a farce to a force for good. And...I think Neal knows that, too.

[It was a good distraction, for a moment. The idea that their friends can call them.

But Will is right. On all counts.]

It’s the most worthwhile project anyone has come up with here.

[He leans into Will again, presses his face into the warmth at the crook of his neck. Into the scent of his skin.]

I tried to help people but I’m not good with them like Neal is.

Neither am I. I don't think we're meant to be people who help with...systematic problems. I tried back home and failed miserably. What we are good at is helping strays. The people who get missed by any and every system. Those that fall through the cracks of human sympathy, for whatever reason.

And maybe it's that which makes me admire Neal's intention to fix a long-running problem here. An issue that causes harm to the self-worth of inmates left and right. I don't even know if he realizes just how difficult a task it was, that he set out for himself.

It’s easy to fall into believing that people here are better than people in other places… than… than they are. Until it crashes down right on you. I did.

[ Will hums, leaning his head against Malcolm's as he thinks about that. ]

I think...maybe there's a higher percentage of better people here than there are where the both of us are from. But not even the wardens are all going to be winners. And most people aren't going to understand us, even if they are less awful.

[Malcolm’s expression crumples a little. Because that’s right and now most of the people who do understand him and accept him have left or are leaving.]

Yeah. I have to… I mean… …I try too hard. To connect to people. To people who are never going to understand. Like Dani. Like Shaw. I bash my head against a wall and wonder why it hurts. I have to stop doing that.

[ Will squeezes him a little tighter. ]

Maybe you don't have to stop. Maybe you can just...back off when it's not working. Extend a hand, but retract it if you get snapped at.

You will find others you connect to, here. I don't know if it'll be a lot, but- this is hardly the end of finding people who care about you, Malcolm. When you do, they'll always be precious, and them leaving is always going to hurt. But it's a sign of the importance you place on them.

At home, I was always going to be alone when it came down to it. That day… the Bad Day… when Francis came to see me, he said I got so worked up because I’m afraid people will leave and of ending up alone, but I don’t think he understood how much that was… reality before.

And then he left.

Yeah.

[ Will closes his eyes and doesn't hide a sniffle, instead just leaning a chin on Malcolm's head. Trying to cover as much of Malcolm's pain as possible. ]

But...not the way other people left. He wants you to visit. He still holds you in his heart. This is why I want to have our traveling home. Because we're not really destined to be...adopted by anyone, not truly- I'm still amazed I've connected with you and Hark so close.

But we still have people we'll care for. I doubt we'll find a world to stay in forever. We have to make our own way...but I'll be with you for that. All of it.

That matters so much to me. I don’t think most of the people that day… could understand why I was such a mess and they… didn’t really want to. I think they were well-meaning but also all they wanted was for me to just… stop it. But I can’t… I can’t lose you. I cannot. I just can’t. Not even a whisper of it, not even a joke about it.

You won't. You won't, and I know that's hard to believe. It's just going to be time and experience that'll sink that in.

[ He leans back a bit, but only so he can give Malcolm a soft kiss. Hopefully his determination and love will come through it. ]

Unfortunately, this place isn't particularly great for that. No one who's here lives here for long, except for a couple of people. And we may well be that couple of people in a few years. But it means we'll have to get used to saying goodbye. [ He tilts his head to the side. ] Maybe it'll be more like 'see you later,' once we can both take vacations.

[Malcolm smiles, a small tentative smile, but a smile nonetheless.]

They've all said we can visit. I asked.

[He looks up at Will.]

I won't leave without you, either. No matter what. I don't care if that means staying here forever. I won't go without you.

[ It's at this point that Will realizes he has tears welling up in his eyes. He smiles, even if he looks away from Malcolm's eyes in slight embarrassment. ]

Okay. Thank you. I don't...I know you wouldn't. And if you ever were pulled away, I'd graduate out of spite and come find you.

[Malcolm nods and cuddles up against him, eyes closing as he rests his cheek on Will's shoulder.]

Can you stay here with me tonight?

Already planning on it. And I'm happy to read or watch movies- anything, if you can't sleep. I'll be here.

[Malcolm slides his arms around him.]

You make me happy. I want you to know. So happy.

Same here, and I'm so glad I do. You deserve all the happiness I can give you.

[ He hums thoughtfully. Performatively. ] ...probably more.

[He breathes out a laugh towards Will's chest, then shifts to look up at his face, reaching up with the fingertips of one hand to gently touch his cheek.]

We'll be okay. [It's not a question. That's a Big Deal.]

We will.

[ He sounds exceptionally certain about that, as he smiles down at Malcolm. And it is a Big Deal, but Will has believed it for some time now. ]

Hey, I'm back. Told you you'd be my first call; how're you doing?

Welcome back. It's good to hear you.

I'm okay. Been busy. How about you? The river do anything weird? ...other than existing.

I'm tired. Which is weird. Hungry, too.

Tired and hungry are probably good signs. You didn't feel that way there, right? Or feel the passage of time?

[ Okay, the more pressing question: ] Do you need me to bring you a sandwich or five?

The only reason I knew how much time was passing was because I could look at the network.

[Things she doesn't say: she'd done her best not to dwell on that, because it had reminded her of how it had felt to be in Decima's hands. Greer has certainly never afforded her a clock or a calendar. ]

Sandwiches would be good. I wanna see you, anyway.

That's good, because I want to see you, too. Gotta bring Bear and Jet back, right?

All right, give me fifteen minutes and I'll be over.

[ He never gives himself enough time to get anywhere, but he does tend to make it somehow. In twelve minutes, he's knocking on her door and calling: ] Dog Delivery!

[ Bear and Jet both sit properly on either side of him, behaving very well despite the bag of foot-long sandwiches Will is carrying with him. ]

Edited 2024-02-10 22:36 (UTC)

[As soon as she opens the door, Shaw bends, placing a hand on each dog's head and leaning in to let them snuffle at her face. Her eyes closed and her attention still seemingly directed downwards, she asks Will:]

Tell me how you're doing?

[ Will smiles at the reunion, and it curls a bit at the question. He knew she'd need to ask. ]

Better, now that I can tell you aren't emaciated, just hungry. And...

[ He looks away, then nods- as if in concession: ] Better, since you started checking in fairly regularly. The little itch at the back of my throat, that tells me I should scream? It faded, some.

[ Will risks a look towards her, at least at the dogs. ]

I...I'm really not sure why I reacted so strongly, after we got pulled back onto the ship. We were here and you weren't, and I panicked.

I'm sorry.

[She looks up at him now, her expression deadly serious.]

I don't regret doing my job, and I fundamentally disagree with everyone who tried to tell me it wasn't my job, but I didn't want that for you. And we should, uh-- I'm thinking we should try to talk through why it happened. Maybe we can figure it out.

[ He'll meet her eyes, out of surprise more than probably anything else. He sees something in there that satisfies him, as he nods and his lips twitch up slightly into a barely-there smile. ]

Sure. I might've gotten a couple of clues since then, too. I can tell you about them while you eat?

[ He shakes the bag in display. He did want to make sure she ate, after all. ]

[Don't mind if she does. Reaching into the bag, she pulls out the first sandwich that her hand touches, cradling it protectively against her body when Jet sniffs hopefully in her direction.]

Uh-uh. Mine.

[Pulling herself to her feet, she steps back into the cabin, leaving space for Will to follow before she shuts the door behind them. She has a bed made up on the couch, which is where she heads - shoving aside a blanket and a pillow that's stuffed into a t-shirt so that she can sit and sink her teeth into the sandwich, closing her eyes and letting out a small appreciative moan.

(The shirt, as he might be able to sense, is Root's shirt. Having it close at hand doesn't make her worry less, but it's nice to sleep on; it's soft, and it smells good, and it's just as it should be, unlike the comatose body up in the loft that's too much like an inanimate object for Shaw's comfort.) ]

Edited 2024-02-11 04:12 (UTC)

[ Will can definitely smell Root on the shirt as he comes near he couch- she's someone who he's gotten used to the smell of, as weird as that sounds. It makes him smile a bit, as that's something he'd do with some of Malcolm's clothes on the nights they're not together. He'd thought it was just a wolf thing.

He doesn't disturb the little nest, instead sitting on the floor in hopes of dogs to pet. He lets Shaw take a few bites before he starts in. ]

I- well, I had a dream, after that talk with you. You...your body was set up on display. Some sort of magic held it together as it separated neatly into sixteen vertical slices. The pieces pulled apart neatly as I tried to run towards you, but some invisible forcefield kept me from getting closer.

[ He rubs at his face, sighing. It doesn't take a psychology degree to see where all that came from. Of course, he doesn't know if Shaw remembers Beverly Katz's death and display. There has been so many horrors in his life. ]

We were in a river, but it was my river in Wolf Trap- where I like to fish. Where I...go, sometimes, when I'm stressed out. And I watched as pieces of you kept sliding down into it. Disappearing under the surface.

[It takes her a moment, but Shaw makes a point of rereading his file regularly. She chews, swallows, and then says:]

Beverly was the only one at the FBI who acted like she gave even a little bit of a crap about you. And she died because she went off to investigate Hannibal by herself.

[She stops here, wanting to make sure she's picking up the right train of thought before continuing.]

[ Right in one. Will sighs a bit, more tired than anything. ]

Yeah. She did. I told her to be careful, to not go alone, but- I still didn't stop her. Maybe I couldn't have.

She died, and the tiny glimmer of hope I still had died with her. And I think this just- it felt like the same thing was happening...even though I know it's not, not really comparable.

[Shaw nods slowly, sighs - and, uncharacteristically, sets aside her half-eaten sandwich.]

I didn't want to do it all alone, you know. I wanted back-up. You and I were a good team, when you were down on the planet, and then after - I thought once I said I was alive and fine people would actually want to work with me instead of against me. Stupid mistake, I guess. I know how this place is.

But I'm frustrated with them, not with you. I'm not mad that you were worried.

[ Will frowns briefly as she puts the sandwich down. But she does need to talk. Will licks his lips and stares down at Bear's paws as she continued, and even after she's finished. He takes his time forming his thoughts into words. ]

I think...I've gotten used to...not expecting to die every other week.

[ He gives her a weak, worn-out, and mirthless smile. ]

This place is insane, but that- that is one thing I don't have to worry about in general. People leave, they usually get their deals or their lives and leave, but they don't die very often. Even if an inmate disappears, there's the possibility that they'll come back. Have another try.

And when I was used to the constant danger, it was... When you expect to die every moment, that's almost its own form of immortality. Only the next step matters, only the situation you're in right then.

Trying to switch between the two...maybe that's where I tripped up. I felt fear and then- when I realized I could jump in the river to get you, but I wasn't going to- guilt.

[Clocking her sandwich to make sure it's not in easy grabbing range for the dogs (they could go for it, but they'd have to put in more effort than just lifting their heads, and that's good enough), Shaw slides onto the floor, too: still a couple feet away from him, but on the same level now.]

I didn't expect you to, and I don't blame you for not doing it. You get that, right?

[ Will starts shaking his head before she's even reaches her question. ]

Yeah- yeah. I get that. I know you didn't have expectations. I guess...I don't know why you didn't. If you were in there, navigating and fighting your ass off for a couple of weeks and getting people back, why shouldn't I be?

[ He shrugs, more of an excuse to hike his shoulders up than anything else. ]

That first week, we were helping with the travel to the city. That was important. But after, when you were still out there-

[ He frowns, chews on his lip, then shakes his head. ]

I guess it hit that the Admiral could just as easily have left you stranded there, in that world. That I could've done more so it wouldn't have been a possibility.

[Shaw lapses into a thoughtful silence, giving herself time to put together her words before releasing them out in the world. She picks idly at the edge of the couch cushion, and when Jet noses his head underneath her hand, she picks idly at his fur, too.]

The kind of work I do - I chose this, every step of the way. I've never been strong-armed or guilted into it; I've never had a Jack Crawford in my professional life.

This place asks a hell of a lot of you. I don't think those expectations are unfair, but asking you to be my backup would be. That's not your role. You helped, and I appreciate that, but when you needed to tap out - I get that; I respect that. And, uh-- Death was easier for me than it was for a lot of people. That's another thing that I think people don't get.

[ Will listens thoughtfully, his thoughts under a fairly blank mask as he rolls them around in his head. Eventually, he breaks into a tired smirk. ]

You're probably attributing more of a selfless motivation to me than is fully accurate. It's not about roles or duty or 'what I should do.' It's about fear...what I could've lost, out of carelessness on my part.

I have lost almost everyone I've connected with, on any level. You know that. And it's not- not that I can't let it happen again. It's more that I don't deserve to. That I wanted you here, and I could've done more to ensure that.

I got...worried, that I'd never see you again. And because of my past experiences, that worry bloomed into a panic and I started getting irrational.

[Ah.

There's another pause, albeit a shorter one; this is less figuring out how to respond and more figuring out which branching path she wants to chase down first. To his reading, it may have the appearance of standing at the head of a crossroads, or standing at the base of a large tree trunk.]

When I said I was doing okay, and didn't feel like I was in excessive danger or risk of harm - I did mean that. The whole 'can't really die' thing was... weird, but it was a boon.

[ It's almost helpful, to feel like there's a path he's walking down with Shaw. As (almost) always, in their conversations, he lets her steer. She seems to know where she'd like to take them.

And they can always come back to the crossroads later. ]

I know you meant it. But I also didn't know if there was anything about the river that could be unusually sinister. A lot of magic- especially with people from mundane worlds like us- it can happen without any outward signs.

And the instructions to not look up at the stars? It sounded like something that could put you under thrall. You seemed all right, but- I don't know anything about the magic here. I didn't know how you- or anyone- might be affected, especially long-term.

You should at least finish off a sandwich, by the way. I'm not going anywhere.

The section before that was a bigger thrall for me. It was empty; blank. Like the helmet, but more. I would have been tempted to actually spend some time there if I hadn't had a mission.

[She takes another bite, almost by rote, but she's clearly distracted.]

Anything I can do next time to help? I could, uh-- I dunno, livestream for you.

[ Will snorts with a laugh, but then stops- and with a small shake of his head: ] Yeah, actually.

It...helped a lot when you started checking in more. I could...also possibly just call you more often. But I didn't want to interrupt a fight just to ease my anxiety.

Trust me, I fight and talk all the time at home; that's a Tuesday for me. Talking and climbing waterfalls might've been harder, but we could've made it work.

[ Will nods, looking slightly sheepish as he does so. ]

In that case...? Yeah. That would be helpful. But I don't think the concern's going to hit again unless we fall outside the Barge's resurrection abilities.

...or Hannibal shows up, but that's sort of a five-alarm fire situation, anyway.

Maybe it won't hit again, but I like contingency plans. Steps we can both take. That, uh--

[She pauses, and Bear paws at her leg, making a faint smile briefly cross her face.]

That's something I'm working on, when I can feel myself not thinking clearly. Or... thinking too much.

["Thinking too much": her way of describing the way her brain will sometimes go into high alert at the slightest provocation, picking apart anything and everything for hidden tells of unreality.]

[ He knows exactly what she might be overthinking about, so he doesn't address it. ]

Contingency plans are good to have. Especially considering how often compromised we are here.

And...I've done the 'livestreaming' thing with Malcolm a couple of times. It helps, when things feel dicey.

Okay. Deal. Because I can't promise to never be in danger again. I--

[The road to the left is straight, wide, clear, and well-lit; the road to the right is narrow and dim, and snarled with brambles and thorns. She hovers, then takes a tentative step down the easy path, not wanting to drag him into the weeds of the hard one when she's not sure how important it is to this particular conversation. If those thorns and brambles belonged to him, she wouldn't hesitate to dive right in, but they don't. These ones are all hers.]

This doesn't have to be a one-and-done, either; we can keep workshopping this. The way you keep associating me with the FBI for some reason or another - I don't think that's a bad thing. It makes things chafe with us, and then it gives us stuff to dig into.

[A pause.]

I don't think you've ever been careless - really careless - in your life. I think both of us have had a lot of experience with circumstances that were way too big for us to control on our own, and we haven't taken to it in the same way.

[ Will nods, thoughtfully, as she mentioned him associating her with the FBI. He doesn't know if that's merely because those were mostly the only people he knew or if there was something else to it, but it warranted thinking about.

Then he looks up and catches her eyes and his head tilts to the side, thoughts swirling in a different direction. He stares down at her hands. ]

Oh, yeah...? What different ways have we taken it?

I surrendered to it. Embraced it, even. The ISA got to use me as an questioning tool, killing people for the greater good, and in exchange I didn't have to deal with any of the messy complexities related to my job. It was a symbiotic relationship that I appreciated.

Well...until they tried to kill you. I imagine.

But yes. I was used as a tool, too. I railed against it- quietly, at first. And then...it really felt like the writing was on the wall, early on. But I tried to trust the system.

[ He doesn't even have words for how badly that failed him, he realizes. ]

Maybe the big difference is that you eventually found a system you could actually trust.

I also never railed, and never had to try to force myself to trust. Falling into line was natural for me. You aren't like that.

I'm not. I'm not a leader, but I'm sure as hell not a follower. Not a soldier.

When I have other people's feelings and motivations in my head, I have to hold onto my autonomy as hard as I can. I have to fight for it or else I'll be subsumed. I learned that before I was even out of elementary school.

I know. It's not my personal experience, but I do get that. And I also get that I'm the biggest parallel to the FBI that this place has. I appreciate that you don't fight me every step of the way here because of that.

Yeah, well-- I made the decision on my own, that I trusted you. It wasn't exactly an easy decision to make, even if I did make it early on.

And while we disagree sometimes, you haven't failed me yet. [ He smiles slightly. ] So welcome to that extremely exclusive club.

You haven't failed me, either.

[She sounds a little discomforted saying that, because it's loaded language - and she knows that's exactly how Jack Crawford would have phrased it, either directly or by implication.]

Even when I've been disappointed or aggravated, I, uh-- I've never thought of it as you failing. But I disagree that I haven't failed you. I'm not letting myself off the hook for that sword curse thing.

Not when you were literally cursed?

[ Will raises his eyebrows, but there's a small smile on his lips. ]

You were- and are- dealing with trauma. I know that doesn't excuse everything, but consider that it's hard to know how that'll manifest in you, with how you interpret emotions. You have to navigate a lot of it alone.

Yeah. You're not wrong.

But the second I start using that as an excuse to not do right by you, I've failed you even more. I came here to do a job, and you didn't sign up for a defective warden.

[ He looks down. He rolls his tongue over his teeth, indicating some deeper thought. ]

So...in that case, the best thing you can do is to keep working on processing that trauma, right?

Mmm. I'm still working with Sheehan, even though he's quitting the counseling office.

[ Will nods. ]

Glad he's not giving all of it up. You gonna try art therapy at all?

[The absolutely befuddled look that she gives him is probably answer enough, but--]

Art therapy? Me?

[ Will grins, briefly. He knows. But still... ]

Hey, it could get you more in touch with your emotions. Or you could find sketching objects relaxing. You never know. I didn't think it'd do anything for me, either. And now...

[ Well, he won't go into it, but they've both seen his cabin (and the wealth of paints in it) lately. ]

[Yeah, that skeptical look isn't fading; sorry, Will.]

I can't picture it. I was never any good at art class when I was a kid - none of my stuff ever came out looking like it was supposed to.

It's not about being good with it. It's more about engaging a different sense than you usually use, while you're processing feelings. Or in your case, maybe teasing out their meaning. The more you engage it, the easier it is to look at topics you have difficulty engaging with, using different perspectives.

So I could see it either being really helpful for you or doing absolutely nothing at all, with no in-between.

[ He doesn't really have a horse in this race. He's just musing, honestly. ]

Malcolm is excited to have a boyfriend on Valentine's Day. He's never had a romantic partner on Valentine's Day in his whole life and this year he not only has one, he has The One.

Possibly he has a fictional romance idea of what it should look like gleaned from movies and novels.

He knows Will will come by after his shift in the kennels, so after his regular Wednesday morning appointment with Avalon, he doesn't book anyone else and goes back to his cabin to prepare.

He makes a platter of finger foods for dinner from the tiny gourmet portions that Neal leaves him in his fridge. He couldn't find roses in the greenhouse, but he did find purple tulips. He sets a bouquet of them in a vase on the counter, then lights candles, setting them all around the cabin. Next: the gift. He takes three medieval throwing knives and lays them in a velvet lined wooden box with a glass top, so they can be stored or displayed in it and sets it on the island, next to the flowers and the food. After the port, elaborate weapons feel like an appropriate romantic gift.

And then he's expecting Will imminently. He puts soft music on the stereo and turns down the overhead lights and goes to get out a bottle of wine and two glasses while he waits.

Will enters the cabin as usual, with Winston and Buster on the leashes that they probably don't actually need and already in the middle of leaning down to release them. It's not until he's standing back up again that he notices the everything that Malcolm has set up on the island. The music, the candles.

He breaks into a bright grin and fiddles with his ring as he walks in. "Malcolm?" he asks, before seeing him in the living room. "You set all this up?"

"Will!" He comes around the couch to give him an enthusiastic hug and a warm kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day," he says, still clinging to him, smiling softly at him.

Will hugs him back, pulling him back in for a longer kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day," he says, then follows that up with a small, slightly nervous chuckle. "I've never really- never properly celebrated it. This is- really nice. Thank you."

He's swept up in his own emotions, overwhelmed by himself rather than someone else. He's surprised someone would do this for him. Even if it's- well, a lot- the effort means a lot to him.

Malcolm is A Lot. But today it's all for Will.

He smiles broadly. Happily.

"I'm so glad you like it! I didn't know if it was cheesy or not," he explains, glancing around.

Will looks down, grin turning into a happy smirk. "Mmm, maybe. But I do like cheese. Besides, I think it's best to go with your gut for this sort of thing. After all, I'm in love with you and how passionately you approach everything..."

He wants to nip at Malcolm's neck, but that might start something that they'd get caught up in too early. And Malcolm went to all this trouble. So he instead leans down for a chaste kiss- well, more of an openmouthed, hungry kiss. So sue him.

It’s a good reward system. The kind that gets you enthusiastic surprises and heart eyes from someone who just can’t resist being cheesy sometimes.

He returns the kiss with equal passion and grins up at him when it breaks. “There’s food,” he says - a rare occasion, indeed - but rather than draw away from Will to show him, he drags him in that direction still stuck to him like a barnacle, where a plate of gourmet small bites are sitting on the counter. “Do you want some wine?”

He looks back at the bites, but his smile flickers with slight strain. It's gone in a flash, and he hopes Malcolm lets it go. If not, they can talk about it, but some names don't deserve to be uttered today.

"Sure. I'd love some wine," he replies, and his eyes move down and to the display box. His smile widens, bright again. "You got me knives?"

He notices it, the flicker, and he’s not sure if it’s right to ask… and then before he lands on an answer, Will notices the gift and distracts him with the full wattage of his smile.

Malcolm grins back, filing the look away for later.

“They’re authentic medieval throwing daggers. If you don’t know how to throw them, I can show you.”

These were not an Admiral request, these come from his own collection. Truly a gift from the heart.

“They’re very finely crafted. Take them out. Feel them. The weight of each one is identical. Think about that. They were made by hand.” He looks up at Will’s face. “Do you like them?”

"Both something from your collection and a promise to teach me more? How could I not?" Will replies, his eyes not leaving the knives. He has a slightly manic look to him as he holds one in each hand, testing the weight against each other. "Damn, getting these both the same weight must've taken a lot of skill."

He almost wants to throw them right now, but even he will wait for a go-ahead before likely putting holes in Malcolm's wall. "I, uh, might've gotten you something too. Somewhat related."

Malcolm lights up. "You got me something?" Is he not the only cheesy one? "What is it?"

Will purses his lips and then smiles, rather shyly. "It was meant to be more of a general surprise, but..." He realized what day was coming up and figured he'd hold onto it for a little longer.

Will breaks away from Malcolm and the wonderful little arrangement on the counter and heads towards the 'bedroom'. Reaching under the frame he comes out with a rather nice-looking long sword. It's in a plain leather sheath. But once Malcolm pulls it out, he'll find charter marks all over the blade. They're all to help counter with the various 'free magic' and undead creatures that they spent the week fighting.

"Happy Valentine's Day," he says, as he rejoins Malcolm and holds the sword out for him. Slightly sheepishly, Will adds, "Uh...I thought you might want a souvenir."

Malcolm takes it from him, a little wowed, pulling it partway out of the sheath to get a look at the blade. Then he looks up at Will.

"Did... Did you get this on the planet?"

Will was already thinking about this before they even left.

"I love it," he breathes. He puts it on the counter so he can lean up and give him a tender, lingering kiss. "I love you," he whispers in its wake.

Will's eyes flick over the blade and the sheath and he considers once again that he should've maybe tooled the sheath like he'd intended, or maybe it wasn't as well-crafted as he could've gotten. He has a hundred things to say on his lips but that just means he stays silent as Malcolm looks it over.

He licks his lips just before Malcolm's back to him, kissing him. Will kisses back with relief and squeezes Malcolm closer before they part. "I love you, too. I'm glad. I got lucky, with this. I don't really know much...about these sorts of weapons. But we don't have access to any magically-embossed swords, generally."

"I've never had a magic sword before," Malcolm confirms, turning to look at his weapons cases, already mentally working on how he wants to display it, without taking his hand off Will's waist. He's going to put it right in the middle of one of the cases, that much he knows. It's just a question of which one and how he wants to rearrange it. He looks at Will again like he's just remembered something.

"Wine!"

Will accepted Malcolm's offer of it, and then Malcolm got distracted and forgot all about it. He shifts around the counter a little to pour two glasses and brings them and himself back into Will's space, putting one glass in his hand and holding up the other to toast. "To our future."

Will is just grinning, now. Malcolm can get these boyish grins out of him easily, especially when they both seem happy and unfettered by their pasts. When Malcolm looks at him, Will just stares for a long moment.

And then Malcolm remembers the wine and Will laughs. "Wine," he replies moving with Malcolm so he doesn't have to go as far to get to him. He takes the glass of the light white, looks at it with a light behind, then clinks it gently to Malcolm's glass. His heart feels full. "To our future. And to many more days like this."

“And to finally understanding what happiness actually feels like,” Malcolm adds before taking a sip.

He glances at the platter of food, but recalls the look that crossed Will’s face when he pointed it out before.

“Do you… do you not like this food? It’s the ones Neal leaves for me so I remember to eat. Well. Left for me, I guess…” His voice trails off. It’ll be a while at least before that happens again. He lifts his gaze back to Will’s face. “I can get something else,” he offers earnestly. He knows where the commissary is now, after going there to pay Shaw’s meat tax. A rip off, since she promised they could talk if he brought something to eat and then she wouldn’t engage. Or even acknowledge that he spoke. “The number of things I have the ability to prepare is pretty limited, but I can do… a few things.”

Will's sip is long and lingering- he understands why Hannibal always held the glass so damn weird, now, the smell really permeates when one's nose is more sensitive. But he notices Malcolm's worry and finishes his sip, putting the glass down.

He puts his hand on Malcolm's shoulder and rubs it a little. "No, no," he says, shaking his head. "It's just been a long while since someone fed me gourmet food and topped it off with wine. And you can...probably guess who that was. The reminder from my brain wasn't particularly welcome. That's all."

Ooooh nooooo he reminded him of his ex. He glances at the food and almost goes down that spiral but then he notices Will’s hand on his shoulder. How it’s warm. The affection in the gesture.

He looks at Will’s face again. Oh, that’s warm too. And affectionate. The uncertainty in his expression fades into another, softer smile.

“I didn’t think of that,” he says apologetically.

'Ex' is both way too strong and not enough to describe what Hannibal Lecter was and is to Will. But whatever term would encompass that, it does not need to be spared a single thought in the here and now.

Will shakes his head again. "I wouldn't expect you to. That's just the mess in my head. Which feels like it's all slowly untangling, mostly thanks to you. So let's enjoy. You can eat this, too?"

He assumes so, since it was actually made for him. The food looks amazing. Will is seriously going to need to learn to cook soon.

Malcolm’s smile gets lighter. He glances at the plate and nods. All stuff he can eat.

“I know what it’s like. The mess. The way it sneaks up sometimes.” He pulls the plate over so he doesn’t have to stray from Will’s arms to pick up one of the bites and pop it in his own mouth - safe, see? - before picking one up and offering it to Will. “This one has something lemony in it.” He’s not a chef, either.

Will watches with knowing eyes as Malcolm eats one of the bites. Of course it's safe, but of course it doesn't hurt to see Malcolm eat one, either. Will finds himself absolutely charmed by the gesture and takes the offering with a gracious nod.

The bite itself is slightly big, but that just means it takes a little extra chewing. His eyebrows pop up as swallows it. "It's really good...definitely something lemony," he confirms, with an amused smirk. "Have you had this before?"

“Not that one,” Malcolm says. “That’s a new one.” He puts his glass down so that hand can absently grip Will’s waist while he peruses the plate and picks up another. “I’ve had this one,” he says offering it to Will. “Something with salmon and maple syrup.”

On an evening near the end of the flood, Will will arrive at Malcolm’s cabin for the night and may notice two things: the big jar of eyeballs is gone and there is a large terrarium on the credenza under the window between the stairs and the livingroom. Inside it, little decor so far, but two colourful snakes are curled up comfortably under a heat lamp. The terrarium has a lid. The lid is closed. Malcolm is sitting on the floor at the coffee table in the living room working on a small water feature. He looks up when he hears the door and lights up when he sees who’s there, like he always does when Will walks into a room.

Will has been spending most of this flood wrangling accidentally-created animals, so he's somehow unsurprised to see a new terrarium in Malcolm's cabin. "Hi, Malcolm," he says, and a little bubble of sunlight escapes his mouth and floats around the room, shining on random parts of the cabin. "What's this?"

He sees the snakes and grins. The colors are gorgeous, and he'd lightly floated the idea of maybe keeping a snake or two out of this flood. The kennel had plenty to choose from. These, though? "Where did you get them?"

Malcolm sets his crazy glue and moss aside and gets up from his little craft table to careen into Will for a hug before turning to look at the terrarium.

"Aren't they beautiful? I rescued them from Sebastian. He was going to cook them and serve them in the dining hall." He looks up at Will. "I gave him the jar of eyes for them."

Will hugs him tight, turning only when Malcolm does. He keeps his arms around Malcolm's shoulders. "They're really beautiful. I'll be sad about the eyes going-" That's (mostly) a joke. "-but that's a good trade. I'm so glad you've got snakes again."

He kisses the side of Malcolm's head. "Have you named them yet? Have any ideas?"

Malcolm smiles when Will kisses him. “I haven’t yet.” He looks at Will again. “They live in marshlands. I’m making them a habitat. We have to see their personalities for a few days to name them,” he says, peering back into the tank.

"That's a good idea. That's how it works with my dogs- I wait until the name just...sort of happens. Wasn't sure if it was the same with snakes."

Will peers a little closer. They're currently wrapped together in something of a loose ball, probably sleeping. "Once they're awake, I'll have to memorize their patterns so I can tell them apart. I can help you with the habitat? If you'd like." He looks back towards the living room.

“I’d love that,” Malcolm says earnestly, moving back towards to coffee table as long as it doesn’t dislodge Will from his side. “OH!” he says suddenly, and he does step out of Will’s space to run over to the kitchen island and grab a rolled up piece off the counter before running back to slide into the crook of Will’s shoulder while handing him the paper. “Kiryu got me a tattoo design from the Japanese tattoo master that did his. Look,” he enthuses, gesturing to it. On the paper is a definite serpent, in red, with sharp scales, coiling and writhing… with the head of a man. “He says it’s called the Torch Dragon. It’s a Chinese god.”

Will raises an eyebrow as Malcolm heads over the island. Realization dawns on him as he unrolls it and Malcolm explains. The amount of detail on this thing is ridiculous, and it's not even fully colored. "Oh, Malcolm...this is..."

He remembers running across the 'Torch Dragon' while he was doing previous research. He remembers it brought day and night, like a lot of older gods. "It's perfect for you," he breathes out. A snake that brings light- of course it is. He licks his lips, still looking somewhat stricken. "And it's gorgeous. Where- where are you going to put it?"

"I don't know; I wanted to brainstorm it with you," Malcolm enthuses. "Kiryu said they use its name as a word for 'bright', even." He tilts his head to look up at Will. "Kiryu has his tattoo on his back. But. Like. His whole back. I don't think I want it... that big."

"Yeah," Will agrees. "Plus that tattoo placement's intended to show off to others. I think you'd probably want to be able to see yours, right? A reminder of what you represent, a grounding tool?"

He's smiling as he looks over Malcolm's body. "So arms or legs? I imagine this artist could scale the detailing so it's as big or as small as you'd like." After all, he can see the craft in the detailing.

“Oh, good thought. Um… well… I almost always wear long pants, in that case. Even to bed. Um.” He gives Will a coy smile. “Except for certain circumstances. So probably an arm, though….”

Will looks over Malcolm's arms and a slow smile comes to his face. "How about..."

He takes the design and carefully drapes it over the shoulder. "The head could go here-" In the front, where Malcolm can see it. "-and it comes over the shoulder, and wraps around your arm. Maybe ending here?" he adds, brushing over Malcolm's bicep down towards the elbow. "Maybe that's too big?"

He hopes not, because Will likes looking at Malcolm's shoulders and would like more legitimate reasons to do so.

“No! I don’t want it to be… small either. That’s perfect! Because you’ll be able to even see some of it if I’m wearing a t-shirt. I wear t-shirts all the time,” he exclaims with a grin. “I love it. It’s going to look so cool, like it crawled up my arm.” He looks up at Will. “Do… you think you’ll like it? It won’t be weird or… off-putting?”

Will is so pleased that Malcolm likes the idea. "Not at all. It might be a little strange for you, at first, because you're not used to seeing it. But it's a part of you, that god that brings light when you open your eyes. That breathes summer."

Will leans in and kisses Malcolm's cheek from his side. "I see it every day, and you'll have a beautiful reminder that's who you are. To me and to others."

Malcolm lights up like Will summoned it. He turns so he can slide his arms up around Will’s neck, leaning up to kiss him properly.

“I love you so much. I want to get Kiryu’s master that designed it to do it, but he’s in Japan. Kiryu said I can get anyone to do it. I wonder if there’ll be anyone at the next port that could do this kind of work.”

Will kisses Malcolm back with enthusiasm, hugging him close.

"I love you, too. And-" Okay, this next part's probably going to be a hard sell and he knows it. "-you should go with Kiryu to his artist. It's...a masterpiece, and he'll know how to adapt it. Kiryu can talk him through what you want, too. This is an important enough occasion to risk it, I think."

Malcolm’s expression creases with his telltale signs of distress.

“Go… to Kiryu’s? Without you?”

"Yeah. With Kiryu, for this." Will rubs Malcolm's shoulders. "You can come right back, but- I think it should be done by the original artist. It'll be the level of quality you and your body deserve." That is, the best. "This is important, I think, for you. And you should have it done right. And you should know that I'll come find you if I have to." He looks directly into Malcolm's eyes so he can see the sincerity of it, the steely determination in Will to do so.

"But I don't think I will. It's really unlikely anything will happen." Less unlikely than one of them disappearing off the Barge some day, but he doesn't want Malcolm to refocus on that.

Malcolm holds that gaze, his fingers fidgeting absently and anxiously in the fabric of Will’s shirt.

Considering it, he nods slowly.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll go. But. Just one time. I can’t… um. I can’t risk this. But you’re right. It’s important. I just… wish you could be there when he’s doing it. I guess… I guess it’ll be a surprise for you when I get back.”

Will breaks into a small, pleased smile, and he leans in to kiss Malcolm gently. "It will. And I know it's scary, but I think it'll be done right this way. And we will be fine."

He reaches up for Malolm's hand on his shirt and gently traces over Malcolm's knuckles with the pads of his fingers. "Besides, you'd have to leave the Barge to make sure it's permanent, anyway. Ports don't count. At least that's what the vast amount of experimentation Shaw's done says. So this trip will take care of that, too."

"You mean for getting killed? Ooooh maybe even for healing, right? We have to be careful anyway because we wouldn't be wolves anymore if we die."

He blinks that fascinating tangent away and looks up at Will's face again.

"I would really like to get the master to do it. Kiryu said it's a great honour. He doesn't do just anybody that wants it."

Will blanks for a moment, hearing about the wolf situation. Malcolm's right, he'd lose that state if he died. That's...upsetting, but Will has done his level best to make sure it doesn't happen. And Malcolm should be fine once he makes this trip...he thinks.

He's distracted by Malcolm's next thought, because it's what he had been focusing on before, anyway. He smiles, knowingly. "You know Kiryu had a very high rank in the Yakuza. I'm betting even most in his clan wouldn't be able to get this guy. And he's not in the habit of hyperbole. So yeah, I think it is a great honor. I'm glad you're going to go."

He'll have to think up some ways to make it a little easier on Malcolm, in the meantime, being away from the Barge. From Will.

“I did… I did know that Kiryu respected me. Even in mediation, at times when I felt like… like he found Shaw’s point of view easier to relate to or understand, I knew he respected me. I just… this is a lot of respect. A lot. For me. It seems like it would be disrespectful to not respond by going and having it done properly. Plus he invited me to meet his family,” Malcolm explains eagerly.

"Did he?" Will asks with a grin. "I've got the feeling that it's grown quite a bit with his time on the Barge. You'll have to tell me about everyone you meet," he adds, as if Malcolm won't detail every minutiae when he returns.

"He does respect you, you know. Because even if he doesn't know how your mind thinks, he knows how hard you're trying. And how much you genuinely, passionately care about people. That counts for a lot, with the right people." Will smiles at Malcolm, all dazzling adoration. Maybe he's projecting a little about what Kiryu thinks, but he thinks he's on track there. And he also feels so very, genuinely lucky.

“He always gave me a chance. Even when most people wouldn’t,” Malcolm concedes with a soft smile.

He studies Will’s face for a moment.

“Maybe… maybe a few days away from the Barge will be good for my head,” he says hesitantly, like sticking his toe in the water. Away from the Barge is fine, but… Will. Will is still tethered to the Barge. “People go and come back all the time, right? Oh! How about… if Iris knows exactly where I am, if I’m not back by the fourth day, you send her to come and get me?”

[At some indeterminate point (but definitely before his battle with Peter), Shaw sidles up to Will on the deck.]

Hey. Look.

[She spreads open the side hole of her hoodie pocket, and a little black and white head pops out: one of the newborn puppies that had popped up during the flood, and are now living in the kennels.

Shaw is maybe grinning, juuuuuust a little.]

[ Will smiles to see Shaw. But then she shows him a puppy and he erupts into a return grin. ]

Oh, I hadn't heard! Is this one from the flood? Aren't you beautiful?

[ He is already cooing at the little guy (or gal), who looks extremely comfortable in that hoodie pocket. ]

[The puppy squeaks, which is about all the noise it's capable of at the moment, and squirms forward to suck on Shaw's knuckle.]

B's got people working in shifts, bottlefeeding them around the clock. There's four of them.

Pup, are you a'right? [The urgency may be overdue, but Sweeney's only getting the information.] I mean, of course you aren't. 'nless ya are.

[He's trying to reason his way through it. Will still has a Gaius healing tab, but Sweeney don't know what that means in regards to things being severed.]

Is there anythin'-- [Of course there isn't. He should have done it already.]

I didn't mean ta. Ta leave you alone. Ta let this happen ta you.

[ Will listens, a frown forming on his face. ]

I'm okay now. It hit pretty hard at the time- I'd never regrown a limb before. Peter waited until the middle of my work shift, so there's not much to be done about that. I was out getting supplies.

You didn't let me down, Hark. I got caught up in the post-flood kennel overload and I wasn't thinking. And I'm sorry you- you had to find out like that. I should've called.

[Will speaking the truth at the end is a barb in his heart, but Sweeney tries to dismiss it. It's not important, especially with all of the bad already passed.]

It's fine. Just...glad yer whole again. That's what matters. [He needs to believe that.]

They talkin' any punishment yet? Or do ya know?

[ Will hadn't been sure about including it, but pretending he hadn't gotten too caught up in all of it to call, didn't seem fair either. But he doesn't have to harp on it. He sucks at family stuff, no matter what lifetime he's operating on. He licks his lips and makes an internal note to try harder. ]

I've been staying out of it, for once...it's just about the only thing James wants out of me. And his...

[ He trails off and sighs. ]

Having Peter here for him, it's like if Hannibal was here, for me. The little monster's obsessed, prodding him with the things that hurt him the most. So...as much as I want to march down to Zero and taunt the bastard, I don't want James thinking that anything that happens to me is his fault, either.

The little I did hear, though- it sounds like they're at least taking him seriously now. He'll be restricted, like he should've been when James brought it up last time.

[That's something, at least. Far more than normally involved, truth be told. Sweeney knows a little bit about Jamie and Peter's relation, but errs on not going into it, in case it's only pointed out how ignorant he is in the whole thing, since he's talked to Jamie all of once, and Will seems to have a far better read on the man. Which brings them to the next list item.]

How's Malcolm?

[It's no secret that the man is passionate in his defense of Will, but Sweeney doubts he would risk demotion, not even for this sort of revenge. And being chained like that will poison a man. Sweeney knows that shit all too well.]

He's...mad.

[ And since he's honest with Hark, he adds: ] Vengeful, I think. He won't risk demotion, but- well, I wouldn't want to be on his bad side.

[ He sounds nothing but fond while he says that. ]

[Sweeney's quiet for a long moment. When he does speak, his voice is low.]

You know...I can't be demoted.

[Kicked off into Nothing, sure. But he suspects that has very little to do with whether or not he serves as the hand of Righteous Violence.]

[ There's a heavy silence in response, followed by a deep chuckle. ]

You can't, can you? Sometimes being an inmate is kinda convenient...not that I'm openly endorsing anything.

[ Shaw will probably, after all, listen to this later. Will considers it 'open.' He also doesn't think that Shaw might care that much, having seen the aftermath. ]

I suspect Peter will be thoroughly defanged after this incident. It's what I was hoping for, that he'd realize he doesn't have any power here. I know I would've loved to rub that in Hannibal's face, if we both ended up here within the same goddamned decade.

Glad he's not here. [Hannibal would be...complicated. On a lot of fronts. Sweeney sighs.]

I hope yer right. I'm just tired of believin' that punishment is effective here. If applied at all. [Which is both true and misleading. He's seen it work, but it's failed so many times, he doesn't have faith in the idea anymore.]

[ Will hums in agreement on the Hannibal front. It would certainly make things a lot more complicated. Besides that, Will's never sure how he feels about the man until he has to make a decision about him. And then, that's just a whim. ]

Yeah, you're right about that. [ He sighs. ] I think Peter went above and beyond, going after both Willa and Iris. Two well-liked wardens with lots of friends and protectors. So...we'll see.

Huh, guess it's not a huge surprise that he went after them. His story's not about Lost Girls, after all. Probably should've expected that one.

Yeah well. I don't expect Iris ta make a fuss. She's gotta soft spot fer the worst of it. Fer all I know, she might find it endearing.

[Sweeney adores her, but the woman still has her faults. Even if one of them is him.]

S'ppose I'll b'lieve it when I see it. If I do. I just ain't gonna hold my breath.

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