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[abrightboy]

 This is Bright. Leave a message.

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[ployboy]

Oh. My. God.

"I want a hug, you jerk," he squeaks out, reaching for whatever napkin or towel is closest to him. The red has firmly planted itself on his face, splotchy and laughing at the total embarrassment Tim's feeling. "I already know Neal's gonna be the best looking guy in th'room."

[empathicfault]

Will looks down, searching his memories for another example. "He was the first to realize I was useful. So, yes. I suppose so."

[abrightboy]

Malcolm’s whole face lights up and he abandons his tea to step over to Tim, plucking the mug from his hand and setting it aside so he can wrap him up in a big hug.

“If that’s a ‘yes’, I’m so glad,” he murmurs into Tim’s shoulder.

[abrightboy]

“How did he find out about you?” Malcolm asks.

[empathicfault]

"Alana- Dr. Bloom. She knew me through work- we both lectured for the FBI Academy. She wasn't there full-time, but I did end up seeing her a lot. She sat in on a few of my lectures and- she was impressed, I guess."

He closes his eyes for a moment and imagines the lecture hall. That feels like a lifetime away. "It was supposed to be only once, but I was apparently indispensable."

[abrightboy]

“She really did you not a single favour, huh?” Malcolm observes wryly.

[empathicfault]

"Oh no," Will contests, suddenly looking amused. "No, she did me one single favor. It was-"

God, how was he even going to approach this one? He sort of laughs and shakes his head. "So- Mason didn't die after the whole 'cutting off his face' thing. Hannibal broke his neck. Even as an invalid, he was a horrible monster. At least he finally looked it."

There is only derision for Mason Verger. He suspects Malcolm will understand. "He set up a bounty for Hannibal's capture. He had Alana as his 'psychiatrist'- I'm sure that was an arrangement to learn more about Hannibal. With all that money, his team caught Hannibal- and me- in Florence. And back off to the Verger Estate we went. Mason wanted to-" Will squints his eyes and takes a measured breath to help emphasize this stupid idea. "-steal my face, and then eat Hannibal with my face." Man didn't have an original idea in his life. Will's sure Mason must've thought it was 'poetic' or something.

"Alana freed Hannibal, on the condition that he promised he'd save me."

[abrightboy]

“I take it he actually did it?” Will survived to jump off a cliff.

private;

[ukan]

You remember that post I made, asking people's opinions on wardens?

Re: private;

[abrightboy]

I do.

Re: private;

[ukan]

What did you get from it? Anything?

Re: private;

[abrightboy]

Apart from nobody really agrees on anything, chapter seven hundred and thirty?

[empathicfault]

Will nods. "Hannibal keeps his promises. It's just- they're usually more like threats. He freed me and took me home. Cleaned me up. Waited for the paralytics to wear off, and then we had a talk." He looks up to Malcolm and shrugs. "He would've done that, anyway, given the chance. But Alana didn't know that."

[abrightboy]

"Do you forgive any of them?" Malcolm asks softly.

[empathicfault]

Will has to think about that. After a long moment of contemplation, he replies, "I don't think I do. I could eventually forgive Alana, I think. But...not Jack." He shakes his head.

He and Hannibal had a conversation, before the Dragon showed up at Hannibal's cliffside manor. Hannibal had brought up the promises he'd made to Alana, and to Bedelia, and implied that Will had a promise he might want to make to Jack.

Will had been fairly certain there was no promise-keeping that was going to happen after that night. But regardless, he had seriously thought about the topic. He finds himself still agreeing with his conclusions, then.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm leans forward with his elbows on his desk.

"Okay, well... it's impossible to know exactly what the Admiral wants you to do to graduate, but you've identified several areas where it would be... beneficial to you to do some work on processing the trauma, regardless. That's probably enough for one day...." They'd waded through some heavy waters. "But at our next session... maybe you can think about where you'd like to start and we can work on that a bit."

Re: private;

[ukan]

You didn't gather anything else?

[empathicfault]

Will feels a bit like a wrung-out dishrag, which means that yeah, it's probably about time to pack it up. He nods and does a more thorough self-assessment, trying to figure out if there's anything he didn't bring up. It was all mostly at the beginning.

"I'll think about it. And try taking some days off sometimes, see if that helps too. I do feel a little more...settled. And you--"

He's hesitant to bring it up, but reminds himself that Malcolm is very open about things other people would find too personal. "I know this is a more 'professional' set-up with you and me. But if you ever want to talk about anything, come by my place. Even if I'm 'resting'. I know it's hard, handling some of what we've been through. I can at least lend an ear."

[abrightboy]

"I just want to help," Malcolm tells him. "I don't feel like I'm... of too high a station to share with you or something." He studies Will's face for a moment. "I've never met anyone who could see it," he admits.

Re: private;

[abrightboy]

Sorry. It was a joke. I noticed that some inmates really strongly feel that Wardens who haven't been Inmates aren't qualified to help them.

[empathicfault]

"Yeah," Will replies, a tired smile crossing his features. He won't elaborate, but he knows how lonely an existence their mindset (practiced or otherwise) can cause. There's a reason why so many of the killers he went after asked him to see.

"I want to help too, if I can. That's all," he adds, vaguely wondering if the help he'd provide would twist the wrong way at all. After all, he's fairly sure Hannibal only had the intention to 'help' him, after a certain point. "I don't get the opportunity to be the 'helper' very often. Plus, I'm pretty sure we could have a decent time just being the Weird Murder Guys around on the Barge, no therapy required." He shrugs. "We could creep other people out talking about our cases?"

[abrightboy]

Malcolm smiles brightly and leans forward a little, conspiratorially.

"I'd love that," he admits enthusiastically.

[ployboy]

Tim latches himself to Malcolm, to his brother, and the moment contact is made he's giving in to sobs that tear through him. He clutches what fabric he can at Malcolm's back, nodding his head shyly against the man's chest. His brother is getting married in this hellscape and Tim wants to whine out some wordless noise of protest even now, because that is such a fucking stupid idea.

It's such a stupid, stupid idea.

Tim would be damned if he lets Malcolm face it alone.

He always thought he'd accompany Dick, maybe, on that grand day first. And then he'd thought he just

wouldn't.

Wouldn't dare. Wouldn't be asked.

Wouldn't be around.

And he came in through the window tonight and found a room with robot blankets on the simple bed and dark and lavender and gray walls. And he got invited to chat and hot drinks, was told nobody would mind the noise he's currently making, and he thinks that he and Jeff will never...

And Tim quiets down to more sniffling, but he's still hiding and holding on.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm rubs his back with one hand, not letting him go.

“You don’t always have to be a warrior, you know,” he says softly.

[ployboy]

He wants to lose it. Just absolutely abandon all he's worked for and agree. Tim forces in a breath, shaky and reminding himself that he's promised so many graves that he won't give up, can't give up.

He really wants to give up.

Another cry, muffled and hoarse and Tim is reeling from how alien it is to feel so much from a soothing touch. "I h've to be something," he argues unconvincingly. Calling himself selfish because this shouldn't be about him.

They were happy.

Malcolm is supposed to be happy.

Tim ruined it. He ruins things. It's what he does.