empathicfault | PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)

PSL: Travels outside the Barge (w/Malcolm)

Piloting their new ship is a little difficult. It takes reading the (somehow enclosed) manual back-to-front and learning the control panel, now situated in what looks like a little closet on the window side of the living room. It's in the new hallway that leads to the small courtyard, which Will intends to decorate once they get this one chore done first.

Thankfully, the majority of the controls are intuition-based, going off the person who puts their hand on a small orb on the panel. The rest, as it turns out, is tweaking. And luckily (or otherwise), no tweaking is necessary for their first flight.

They're heading to Will's home world.

But Will doesn't specify where, just a year later than he left. he inadvertently brings them to where he'd left. The door opens from a wall of Hannibal's cliffside home, and looks out onto the driveway. The Dragon's wings are still there, staining the cement. They overlook the grey day and the churning seaside.

Will finds himself stuck in the doorway, unsure whether he's compelled to walk out and remember or slam the door shut and take them elsewhere.

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Malcolm follows Will out, looking around as they emerge into the street. He smiles and looks at Will.

“This is the area where you lived?”

He always enjoys learning more about Will, even if the details are small and/or only Will-adjacent.

"A little to the west of it, yeah. Our space was slightly more suburban..." He looks around, gets his bearings and points down ones side of the street. "That way. Here, follow me."

He leads them across street and to a general store. The front looks new, but it's clear this building (and every other building on the street) has been around since the Gold Rush era. There's a very distinct feeling of shops that have outgrown their space doing whatever they can to for back into them.

The general store is mostly groceries, but also pharmaceuticals, camping, and fishing supplies. Will isn't heading in, however, aiming for the stacks of community newspapers, sitting in between a giant wood-carved bear and the door.

"Thirteen months later," he declares. Then, quieter- "...and under a year until the pandemic, if we're going to have one." He searches for emotion attached to that and finds very little- save an increased desire to convince Molly to leave.

Malcolm watches Will's face, rather than the newspaper. Will can read the date without his help.

"I... wish I could say it wasn't that bad, but... it was so bad," he says with a wince. "That wasn't reassuring," he chides himself. He glances around. "A small town will definitely fare better than a big city," he adds honestly. "And it's even better if she lives outside of town." He looks at Will. "Does she still live in the house where you lived?" Because maybe he'd like to see it from a little bit afar before briefly parting ways with Will.

Will reaches for Malcolm's hand, giving him a small smile. "You don't need to reassure me. It's a pandemic- it's going to be rough. If she doesn't take me up on it, I'll try to give her some advice."

With that addressed, he continues. "She's probably there. It was her house before ours. Her first husband died when Wally was six." He was a hunter, which meant Will had stag heads in his house. He'd thought it rather fitting, right up until the letter came.

"You want to see it? It's two acres. I'm sure she's still got the dogs. She picked up more strays than I did."

Malcolm squeezes his hand and then holds on tight, but at the invitation he tries not to look too excited, though he fails.

“That’d be okay?” he confirms. He really doesn’t want to impose. But. A house Will lived in!

"Of course," Will says, amused.

He's lived a lot of places, to the point where he doesn't really feel like he's from anywhere. But Malcolm's always so fascinated by his past, like Will graced it with his presence. It helps him look more fondly on places he didn't give much of a thought to before.

"I'll set us up just outside the property. You can get a good look at it."

He keeps hold of Will’s hand, which is probably how he manages not to walk into anything as he looks around on their way through town.

“This kind of place for sure is better for you than a city. I’ve never lived in a small town. Does everyone really know everyone? …I guess the Barge is a small town. I don’t know everyone there. Maybe it has higher turnover than an actual town…”

"It is definitely the sort of town where everyone knows everyone, which is why I came to one I've only visited a couple of times. I was infamous before the scene I left at the cliff."

They reach their door and Will pushes it open, setting them in their kitchen. "I'd really like to talk to Molly before Freddie Lounds gets in my face. God, she probably made the aftermath hell for Molly..."

Ah, there was the guilt that made him decide to come here in the first place. At least he'd earned this one.

“That’s the reporter, right?” Malcolm confirms much more soberly. He knows what it’s like, their lenses in your face all the time on the worst days of your life. “I hope she didn’t find them that interesting when you weren’t there anymore.”

"No, she-" Will licks his lips, frowning in distaste. "She's always been obsessed about following me, even before anything suspicious happened. Even after Hannibal was incarcerated. I'd say it's a wonder Hannibal never killed her, but I think he liked her lack of shame."

He shakes his head and points them towards the console, much less worried about setting it this time. He was far more familiar with where they'd be going this time. "No, I bet she's still got someone watching out for them- if she's not doing it herself. Make sure you keep your eyes open for anything glinting in the trees."

Malcolm nods soberly.

“I’m… familiar with that glint. I know what I’m looking for.”

"I thought you might be," Will replies, with a sad smile.

The travel happens with a switch and a thought. When the front door opens this time, it's onto a small copse of trees, and a little creek running through them. The tree Will has picked to shove their door onto is almost wide enough to hold the door, but a little crack of space appears in parts where the door isn't flush. Will walks out with his hands in his pockets.

The house is on the other side of 'their' tree, and they're effectively hidden from view. It's large and looks like it belongs right where it is, among the douglas fir trees. There's a big wrap-around porch and rustic touches. It's at the top of a hill they're standing at the bottom of.

Malcolm looks up at it, his eyes a little wide, then he looks at Will.

“You lived here?” So lovely and rustic and isolated. “Did you love it?”

Will stares up at it. "I should've," he eventually says. "...I wanted to. It's everything I thought I wanted. A good home, a family, a house with lots of space. More dogs," he adds with a huff of a laugh.

"But it wasn't quite right, for some reason. I always felt like a stand-in, like someone's unwanted understudy. I told myself it was...imposter syndrome. That I'd grow into loving it as time passed. But..." He trails off.

Edited 2025-04-09 04:10 (UTC)

“He had a hold on you already,” Malcolm says quietly. “What did you do when you lived here? Not FBI work,” he assumes.

That wasn't what Will had been thinking, but that was what it came down to, in the end.

Still, he's a little tripped up, looking up at his little fairytale house that he could've just kept, pretending he was someone- no, something- else for the rest of his life. He almost let it happen.

"Uh- no. No, I got as far away from that as I could. I worked part-time at an animal shelter near here- Molly does legal work for them and put in a good word. Otherwise, I'd take care of the house, pick up Wally from practices...that sort of thing."

“I… know we’re all supposed to want a particular picture of domestic life,” Malcolm concedes. “But… maybe you just weren’t designed to live in just one place. You were made on a houseboat. You’re built to be a nomad. Your vessel is your true home. Maybe you’ll have some ports you’ll make cozy because you want to stop there again and again. Like LA. But… it’s not your fault or hers that you couldn’t be something you’re not,” he points out softly. “Or that the messaging has always been so overpowering that you couldn’t know you weren’t that.”

Will watches Malcolm explain the nomad aspect to him, and his eyes practically glow with fondness. He pulls Malcolm into a hug and brushes his lips over Malcolm's cheek.

"You are such a kind man," he says. "You're right about the nomad aspect, of course. But it's the darkness she couldn't see past. The world I...thrive in."

He sees a white SUV peeking through the trees, on the driveway headed to the house. "And I'd love to go over nuances, but- later. I've stalled long enough. Wish me luck?"

He does like it when he manages to stumble into pleasing Will just by saying what naturally comes to his mind. He squeezes Will back tightly and smiles at the brush of his lips. He nods at ‘wish me luck’, smoothing out Will’s collar slightly, his hand sliding almost reluctantly away from the contact after a second.

“And if not, break a leg,” he jokes, but his unserious smile turns serious. “I love you,” he promises.

Will takes in a deep breath as Malcolm smooths his collar and gets him ready to go. He feels steadier with the support. "I love you," he returns with a grateful smile.

He squeezed Malcolm's shoulder before finally tearing himself away. He hikes up the hill and manages to make it to the driveway as Molly is still pulling groceries out. Malcolm's enhanced hearing picks them up- although no one would miss the way Molly shrieks in fear when Will offers to help her carry them in.

"Oh- god, Will. You're not-"

"I'm...no longer dead. But it's a long story and-"

She's hesitant to ask, but she does. She still sounds frightened. "Are- are you with him?"

"No. No, Hannibal's dead, Molly. I've been in...a different place. Oh-" He catches a grocery bag that's slumping in her hand. "You might need to sit down for this, Molls. We can stay on the porch?"

"No- ...no. Come in. Wally's not here. Grab that last bag on your way?"

They make their way inside, and it's another half an hour before they're coming out again. Molly looks pale but determined, and Will looks concerned. They both start walking down the hill, directly towards the tree their ship's placed on.

Malcolm is busy while Will is in the house. He’s had an idea for a housewarming gift for Will for a while, but now that they’re near a town, he can work on it.

When the main door of the ship opens, Malcolm is pulling shut the bathroom door and stepping into the entranceway, a smile ready to remind Will that there is always someone here that’s happy to see him.

It's a shame that their ship is soundproof, because then Malcolm would get to hear Molly tell Will that "Sure, it's weird, but it's just a door," and that it's not entirely unexplainable.

Will opens the front door for her, and suddenly Malcolm's greeted with his husband and Molly Graham. She's a shorter woman with dyed blonde hair and high cheek bones. Her general style is very much based on practicality. She's a get-it-done sort of person. And right now, her eyes are widening to saucers as she takes the place in.

Will would place a hand on her back to steady her, but he's very much avoiding touching Molly. He catches the smile on Malcolm's face and gives him an apologetic smile in return. "Hi, sorry. She wanted proof." Because of course she does. Will had been so worried about talking to her that he never got this far in his offer.

He gives Will what he hopes is a reassuring look before he looks at Molly and looks at him and then back again. Did he tell her he’s traveling with someone?

“No. Right. Of course. I would too! Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Malcolm,” he tells her, offering his hand.

Meanwhile, Molly is looking at his other hand- the ring finger. "Oh, you're- uhm, Will's husband. Of course." She reaches up to shake his hand. "From the...afterlife rehab clinic."

Even she realizes that she's tripping over her words. But polite meetings as her worldview breaks apart wasn't on her schedule for today. "Sorry, I'm not usually-"

She's cut off by the sounds of barking from Winston and Buster, currently in the courtyard. Molly's face softens, and she's threatening to smile for the first time since Will approached her. "Of course you have dogs here."

The barking sets off baby yips from behind the bathroom door, which makes Malcolm wince - surprise ruined - but he tries to just carry on like there’s nothing to know.

“Well, he’s a dog guy. We have a bird, too. Do you want something to drink?”

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