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Malcolm’s expression creases and he feels that creeping misery crawling in every direction from the chasm opening in his chest.

“Did Xiao Xingchen‘s Warden ever tell you that you weren’t allowed to see him? That you weren’t allowed to be in a room alone?”

He looks down at Francis’ hand over his.

“I know why he’s an inmate and I haven’t interfered with her work, except in her head. Maybe she should focus on her job.”

Crozier’s smile falters, but it isn’t because of what Malcolm said. It’s what’s behind it.

He takes back his hand, but only to move beside him and oh-so-tenderly, oh-so-carefully cup his face.

“You’re so afraid of being left alone, my boy,” he whispers. “Of having something good taken away. Your whole life has been unsteady, searching for someone to hold onto who won’t betray you.”

That, from Francis, makes his eyes well.

“Why is that a crime this week?” he whispers.

“It was never a crime,” he murmurs, thumb poised to catch any tears that may fall. He remembers how Malcolm reacted at even the thought that he may one day leave.

“Will you do something for me?

He nods faintly, constrained a little by Francis' hands but not trusting his voice.

His hand moves to his shoulder, and he grips him tightly. “Remember that you have a place in Will’s life. It’s vital for some people to make those connections, to have something to live for and work towards.”

Crozier makes sure to catch his eyes for this next part— “Will is an inmate, and you’re not his warden, nor would he want you to be. Sometimes we have to let go, and trust that things we chafe against serve a purpose. It can be…infuriating, worrying. It might even make you ill.” As is clearly the case. “But Shaw is his warden, and she’s the one who’s going to do the harsher work to get Will his life back. He won’t be taken from you, lad. You know that’s not how this place works.”

"It's not about that," Malcolm tells him. "I know she's been telling people that it us, because they keep calling me and coming here and saying that, but I don't want to be his Warden or dictate how he's Wardened. Literally I just wanted her to tell me the 24 hour chaperoning him everywhere would have an end date. I just wanted to know that we could spend time together, without her, at some point. But until after the movie last night, she wouldn't say that. I didn't even need specifics. And I have been trying and trying to explain that to everyone who's come here with these concerns and I feel like I've been screaming into a void." He takes a breath. "I didn't want to even necessarily see him right then or anything. I just wanted to know that I would be able to. Alone. Eventually. And she wouldn't say it. Instead, she apparently texted everyone I know and told them I'm crazy."

Crozier shakes his head. “She didn’t say that.”

And he feels as though the point is getting away from him.

“It might be beneficial to speak with mediation about boundaries you’ll both need to set. Ultimately though Malcolm, she makes the decisions for Will. I know it’s upsetting, but it’s what she’s been brought here to do.”

Malcolm presses his fists against his eyes.

"I don't want her not to make the decisions!" Malcolm says through gritted teeth. "I wanted her to tell me what one specific decision of hers about him was! And when she refused, I left her and Will alone! She's the one that has since sent a parade of harassment to me about respecting her wardening. We already are supposed to meet with Kiryu when everything calms down. Am I speaking English?" he asks, letting his hands drop. "Or am I really screaming into a void? I went over after it happened, after Will called me, that night for like twenty minutes. Then I left because she wanted me to and then I left them alone. What sort of interference am I supposed to have been causing that warrants her sending everyone I know down here to chide me for it? Please. I'm begging you to explain it to me. I want to know."

“I can see you’re frustrated,” Crozier says coolly. “But I know you, Malcolm. I can see how distressed you are, and I’m trying to offer some advice. As for the rest — I don’t know.

“I don’t know any of it. I don’t know how she reacted, I don’t know the details of what happened with Will. I’d appreciate it if you’d quit lumping me in with the battalion of people that Shaw sent your way, because I’m not here for her or to talk reason into you or whatever damn thing you think is going on.

“I see the path you’re going down. I see the push and the pull between you and here, and I’m offering advice because it’s a man’s life at stake and you’re both wardens. Take it or not, my boy, but don’t mistake my intentions.”

Malcolm looks at the floor between them, cowed.

"Of course I want your advice. I'll... do what you said."

Crozier sighs and raises his hand to massage between his eyes.

“I’d tell you to start guarding your heart just a little more, but we both know I’d be a hypocrite if I did. I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

"You're not mad at me?" Malcolm clarifies.

He shakes his head softly. “I’m not mad at you, Malcolm. Of course I’m not.”

“I’m mad at me,” he says softly.

His brow furrows. "Why's that?"

“Because as far as I know, everyone she called to come handle me thought I needed it and I can’t put that on her. I’m a mess. But I was trying to be a mess that stayed in his corner and didn’t bother her and it didn’t help.” He lifts his eyes to look at Francis’ face. “Did she tell you how many people she asked? I just… want to know how many people were told… the things people who’ve talked to her have been saying. How am I supposed to work in counselling if nobody respects me enough to talk to me?”

Crozier shakes his head. "I know she spoke with Kiryu. Shaw and I's own conversation was short, rather to the point. I said I'd speak with you because I was concerned."

He debates on whether to say the next point, but Malcolm deserves to know what's being said. "She's worried. She believes Will can be manipulative, and you can be susceptible to it. She worries that you're both overly dependent on each other."

“…Kiryu? That… makes sense, actually. I should have guessed that. And… I’m always glad to speak to you. But… we’re not… I mean… it’s even worse if that’s what she’s telling people. Oh my god that must be why Jesus told me we should split up.” His expression creases with consternation. “What… what would you have done if you were being…. talked about like this?”

“Did…no one say that to your face, Malcolm?”

Well, no wonder he’s been so bloody confused! Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to hear it from anyone other than him.

He shakes his head a little. “You forget, I was an inmate, and before that I was a goddamned mess of a person. I was being talked about constantly. I was miserable and I drank to cope. I put people in danger, Malcolm. I’d be more surprised if people weren’t talking about me.

“Eventually…I realized I need to change something about myself. I was doing harm to others.”

Malcolm’s eyes widen. “…Is that what I’m doing?”

"Doing harm? I don't think you are," he says gently. "I was merely speaking on my own experiences."

He looks relieved.

He can’t, in truth, picture Francis doing harm, but he has said he had a journey.

“Um. Nobody has told me that. To answer your question. That… they think Will might be manipulating me.”

"Unconscious or consciously, perhaps. I couldn't say for certain, nor would I want to believe that of him. But...it very well could be a possibility, Malcolm."

"He loves me," Malcolm says quietly. "He means it. I can tell."

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