Voicemail (IC Contact Post) OLD - at capcha

[abrightboy]

 This is Bright. Leave a message.

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shortly after his network post

[inlieuofadad]

Gil catches a cab to Malcolm’s house. Or rather he gets an Uber, since that seems to be the thing the kids call it. He knocks briefly and rings the bell before just unlocking it with his key and poking his head inside.

“Malcolm?”

[abrightboy]

"I'm in the kitchen!" Malcolm calls. Making tea. To go with the cookies. Sugar cookies like he enjoyed nibbling at the fair, except smaller and prettier because Neal. "Do you want green tea or this herbal tea that I'm having?"

[inlieuofadad]

Gil comes in, feeling beleaguered but looking... rested. The air of heaviness that usually follows him, that eau du overworked NYPD detective, is conspicuously absent.

"Herbal," he says. Pauses. "Green."

Maybe extra caffeine will keep him awake.

[abrightboy]

"I do have some that are both," Malcolm tells him, watching him carefully. "...Are you okay?" He looks well, but suspiciously so.

[inlieuofadad]

He gives a noncommittal little grunt at the question, taking what’s more or less become his seat at the breakfast table. “I’m… fine.”

A brief lift of his hand, the impulse to itch at his web tattoo under his shirt, but he catches himself half-way there and knocks his knuckles on the table instead.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm picks a green tea with ginger and lemon and drops it in a cup, looking over at Gil as he does so.

"Tell me more about the nightmares."

[inlieuofadad]

He doesn’t want to. But this is Malcolm’s thing, as much as anything here is anyone’s thing.

Gil’s shoulders slump a little. He meets Malcolm’s eyes, hesitates, and says, “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Apology, excuse. “They started after I got pulled into that bus people have been talking about.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm is distracted from his task by that revelation. He steps towards the table.

"You were on the bus? What happened?"

[inlieuofadad]

“Not intentionally. Went to investigate with an ADI local, they waited at the stop while I stood back to keep watch on them, and then it…”

He shifts in his seat, describing the bus’s appearance as clinically as possible. Gil rubs his face. “The other guy started boarding, yelling for help, and I tried to run in and pull him off. My muscles locked up and I got forced on board too. It was full of spiders. Webbing. Egg sacks. I sat down. Couldn’t do anything else.”

Gil stops. The sensation of being cocooned is a little too horrifying for him to willingly recount it. “Lost consciousness and woke up at the stop the next morning, with the other guy.”

[abrightboy]

“…And the nightmares started after that?” Malcolm clarifies.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil sighs heavily, nodding. "Always ending with me waking up somewhere doing... something."

Even if it was just Yoga in his room at Bonnie's.

[abrightboy]

“It’s unlikely they’re just nightmares, then, isn’t it?” Malcolm points out.

[inlieuofadad]

“I hoped it was…” A broad “I dunno” gesture with one hand, not defensive so much ass aggressively annoyed. “Some weird psychology thing.”

[abrightboy]

Malcolm nods. “Yeah. It is. We call it ‘magic crap messing with your head’,” he says flatly.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil grumbles noncommittally at that, rubbing his temples.

[abrightboy]

“Has anything else weird happened since then?” Malcolm presses.

[inlieuofadad]

Gil presses his lips into a tight line for a moment before he shrugs out of his jacket, turning to drape it over the back of his chair. Then, awkwardly, he pulls down the collar of his turtleneck until the fabric stops giving, showing the edge of an ornate tattoo in the shape of a spiderweb over his collarbone.

"Woke up with that, too."

He lets his shirt go, uncomfortable.

[abrightboy]

“You woke up with a tattoo of spiders from the spider bus and a parasomnia?” Malcolm clarifies. “And you haven’t said anything to anyone?”

[inlieuofadad]

"I clearly just did," Gil grumbles, forcefully unaware of his own reliance on the kinds of technicalities Malcolm usually exploits.

[abrightboy]

“After you tried to take care of it by asking weird questions on the public network,” Malcolm points out. “Where have you been staying? You should stay here. I have spare restraints; I can attach them to your bed.”

[inlieuofadad]

"I'm at Bonnie's," he says. "I've been keeping an eye on things there. I'll take the restraints, but I can't just..."

Gil sighs. "I'm all right, Malcolm. I'm okay."

Alarmingly so.

[abrightboy]

“No!” Malcolm insists in a fit of childish temper. “Why is staying there so much better than staying here?”

[inlieuofadad]

Gil closes his eyes tight for a moment, mostly so he doesn’t have to see that helpless anger. “It’s not better, Malcolm, it’s not that it’s better.”

He rubs his face. “I’m making sure Jeff doesn’t hurt anyone. Or himself.”

[abrightboy]

“Jeff? Jeff’s never been better. He’s not suicidal anymore. Something is hurting you, though,” Malcolm stubbornly points out.

[inlieuofadad]

He can’t bring himself to tell Malcolm right now what he knows but can’t and won’t try to unequivocally prove. Instead he does what he always does where Malcolm is concerned: he folds.

“All right, okay. I’ll stay here.”