empathicfault | IC Inbox

Hi Will. It's me again. I'm okay. Just let me know when you can come and get me.

Hi Will. I don't want anyone to see me here and ask questions. I'm going to sneak out when nobody's around. I'll see you at home soon.

Will? Are you there?

Will? ...Will? I'm going now. Back to our room. See you there

Will had a lot to do when he came back. But all-in-all, it was a fairly quick clean-up, thanks to his brother. And finally, he checks his communicator to see just how many messages Malcolm made while stuck in the infirmary. He's expecting more than there is, and that's...well, he's not sure what it is.

Upon listening to them, he realizes the last one was a few minutes ago. With a frown, he rushes into the hallway and sees Malcolm hobbling down from the elevator.

"Malcolm, what the hell?" he says, far more worried than anything else. He rushes forward and- ignoring a couple flashes of Hannibal's attack in his mind- reaches out to support him.

Malcolm’s expression brightens when he hears his voice and he looks up from where he’s carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

“You’re back!”

He lets Will get an arm around him, looking up at him sidelong, a little uncertainly. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mad? I-" Will looks extremely confused, for a period of about three seconds. Then he laughs, even if there are tears in his eyes and he's sniffling a little bit. Emotions are a little tough right now. "No, not at all."

He leans his head on the side of Malcolm's, just feeling the warmth of Malcolm's body. "I was worried. He- he did a lot of damage. And you should have someone helping you here."

He smiles warmly at Will's feet.

"I do have someone helping me here." Now, anyway. "I didn't know how long you'd be gone, but I don't want everyone to find out I got hurt like this. I thought... I could wait for you at home. He's gone-gone now, right? You can stay overnight?"

"Yeah. Flood's over, I can stay," he says, slightly concerned about Malcolm keeping it quiet. But...well, Will would too, honestly. And he would really like Malcolm all to himself for at least a day or two. "Here, let's focus on getting you settled. Couch or bed?"

They're almost to the door. It's good to have a plan.

"Couch until bedtime?" Malcolm asks. "I want to have sort of... normal nights. I mean our normal. That's one of my favorite things. I missed it a lot when you couldn't stay. He doesn't get to take them now that he's gone."

"No. He doesn't." The way Will says it, it's very final. Not that he will find any arguments here. "Couch it is, then."

From there, he focuses on getting Malcolm the rest of the way into the apartment. It smells- even to a standard human nose- strongly like vinegar. That unfortunately can't be helped.

As they shuffle to the living room, Will can't keep it in anymore. "I'm sorry he hurt you, Malcolm. I'm- really sorry." His jaw is set and a few tears find their way silently down his cheek.

Malcolm looks up at him, gives him as much of a squeeze as he can manage.

"You're not responsible for what he did. And you warned me and I still provoked him." He grunts faintly leaning up to kiss his cheek. Worth it, though. "You're not him. And you're not responsible for him."

"Don't shift," Will scolds, although there's not much feeling to it. He presses a kiss to the side of Malcolm's head. And then he admits, "You know how...mixed up inside of me, parts of him are. And this was...personal."

They've reached the couch, so he immediately shifts into fussing. He settles Malcolm against some pillows, in a nest of blankets. He uses the one they both settle under together as an actual blanket for Malcolm. And he makes sure he leaves a spot to the side of the head of the 'bed', where he can sit. They can still be close.

"I'll get you some water. I don't suppose anything else sounds good?" Couldn't be. Will had a tough time eating for weeks into his own recovery, and he wasn't food sensitive.

"Having talked to him pretty extensively, I can say very confidently that he doesn't love how much better than him you are. But also he does. He may have welded bits of him into you forever, but they don't make you part him because the horrible things he did were choices." He glances at the kitchen at Will's question. "Do we have any ginger chamomile tea left? I think... I'd like some tea. And water. I feel like a desert."

"I'm not surprised," Will replies. "I'm pretty sure we do, unless Hannibal drank it," he adds with a rather sour tone. Because he expects to find small little pieces of Hannibal all over their place now.

He doesn't respond to the rest of Malcolm's assessment with anything other than a thoughtful look. His mouth opens as if to add something, then shuts again. And then he's focused on making sure Malcolm's comfortable. Once the blankets are perfect, he sits down and leans over, gently encircling his arms over Malcolm's shoulder and kissing his lips just as gently.

"I love you. I know I'm only going to the kitchen, but if you want me for anything, just yell for me. Okay? I'll be right here." And maybe that sounds too patronizing, but Will feels a little like he'll implode if he doesn't assure himself of this. He's here. He'll be here.

Malcolm doesn't find it patronizing. He smiles.

"Remember what I told you when you called, before you came home? He didn't change it," he says looking up at Will with a dreamy expression that is 90% smitten and only 10% bloodloss.

Edited 2024-06-24 00:00 (UTC)

Will looks into Malcolm's eyes and then smiles, closing his own. He is tired, but he is also so satisfied to both hear this and realize it's true. Maybe things have changed a little, here or there. But Malcolm still loves him just the same.

"He didn't change it," he happily concurs. "You were right."

And that's more important than the majority of the worries swirling around in his head. Anything else, they can work on later. Together.

Will reaches for and gently squeezes one of Malcolm's hands, then forces himself to stand up. "I'll be right back." He leaves to make the tea, glad for how open this layout is. He can keep Malcolm in his line of sight. "Looks like we'll have some time to catch up on our movie list, here," he says, raising his voice a bit.

Malcolm peers over the back of the couch at him as he works, just eyes and hair visible from the kitchen.

"And books!" he calls back cheerfully. "Are you going to bring the dogs back tonight or tomorrow?" he asks.

"And books," Will agrees. He gets the water, and...the tea is still here, so he sets the kettle to boil.

"As for the dogs, let's give it an hour or so and see how we feel. I don't want to leave just yet." Not when he just got here, and Malcolm just 'escaped' the infirmary. "Edwin has them now. They should be fine. They like him a lot, you know." Something occurs to him. "What would you prefer?"

"Edwin loves them, too," Malcolm muses. "I think... stay with me tonight and get them tomorrow. Or... maybe even Edwin could bring them here," he suggests.

"Let's check on it tomorrow, then," Will replies easily. "If Edwin's too busy to bring them, I'll go get them, but- time with you only does sound good, right now."

He returns with a couple of water glasses, figuring he could use the hydration himself. "I feel like I need to...re-align myself, after all that. And you need to do that too, just physically. So we'll take our time and heal." He hands one glass to Malcolm, as long as he looks like he wants it now.

Malcolm takes the glass with the hand of his good arm and clicks it gently against Will's glass.

"To healing," he says, then takes a drink. He looks at Will. "We're okay, right?"

Will's smile is a little strained, but he's still smiling. "I will be more okay when you're healed up. But yes, we're okay. As long as you think we are." He sort of adds that into the sentiment, because Malcolm needs to know it's not just a decision on Will's end.

"And if...if there's anything you want to know about him, or what he said, or- any of it...you only have to ask. I don't want you to feel like there's any place in my memory palace you're not allowed to go."

Malcolm's whole face softens and he leans over - despite the effort required - to give him a gentle, tender kiss.

"I was mostly worried about... him doing the thing my dad does. Subtle little... seeds planted to drive a wedge in." He pauses. "I want to ask you what he wrote to you, but it feels like asking to see your text messages. I trust you. I don't want to sound like I don't. I'm just curious."

Will takes the kiss happily and smiles at the ground when Malcolm notes it'd be like reading his text messages. It's more personal than that, but Will's committed to being honest with Malcolm. It's always been to Will's advantage when Malcolm does know more. They help each other figure these things out.

"You can read them. I wouldn't be surprised if he left things to find for weeks to come, at this rate." He lets out a small sigh, partially because there's a part of him that's thrilled for the easter egg hunt he's apparently been put on. "He found the sketch I had from Christmas and left a bunch of those, too. I've been...collecting it all behind the canvases near the easels." He's a little reluctant to leave the couch, but he knows how Malcolm's curiosity works. So he asks, "Want me to grab them now?"

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