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[All that makes him smile. It's still a little shaky, but it's genuine.]

Yes. I'd like that. Sometimes... I feel like I should only talk to you. [He bites his lip for a second.] ...Abel asked me for a regular appointment. I have two clients now. [It that exciting or sad? He's defaulting to exciting.]

[ Listen, there's only- at max- a hundred people on board. That any of them ask for therapy is a surprise to Will. He's excited about it, too. ]

Really? That's great. I don't know how you turn around people who are so awful to you sometimes, but you do. I'm glad he's looking to...work on some of what he's got going on.

[ He takes in a deep breath as he slows his shoulder rub, eventually leaning down to give Malcolm a kiss. ]

You're struggling with social conflicts, but you're making progress. Like I said, the disengaging went well- it was better than I could've managed. Although...I wouldn't mind, once we've finally left this place...we could only talk to each other for a decade. That'd be nice.

...maybe two.

[ He's clearly joking, but...if Malcolm took him up on it, he wouldn't be upset either. ]

[The kiss melts more of his tension than even the massage and he smiles lazily in its wake.]

Gil says I’m an acquired taste, so basically I just persist in existing until they get used to it. [That’s how he turns them around. His smile becomes wistful as Will mentions not talking to anyone else for a decade or two when they leave, then it falters. The social conflicts. He pauses.] Do you think you’ll get a permanent inmate soon? Because Walter hates me and I think he’s going to ask for a new Warden soon. I’m not going to get a deal. [He looks up at Will, his brow creasing.] I’m sorry. I messed up. I messed everything up. I tried to fix it, but I can’t.

[ Will frowns with concern. ]

I think Walter hates everyone right now, except for maybe one or two people. He's maneuvering to paint wardens in as bad of a light as he can. He's going after Shaw now, if you've noticed.

It'd probably be better for everyone if he just had a tantrum or a revolt already. As it is, he's trying to play chess, but nobody's seated across from him. Don't let him wear you down, okay?

I told him off for how he spoke to Shaw, but... for the most part he's not talking to me. He gave me a... [He pauses and takes a folded piece of paper out of his desk and holds it up for Will to take.] He made me solve a riddle to find this letter. And it wasn't worth it.

[ Will grabs the paper and groans at it. ]

Oh, he is lucky he's not my inmate. Or damn near anyone else's on this boat, to be honest.

Listen, Malcolm. I told him when he first came with his board games, pretending that he wasn't there exclusively to try and get me to 'handle' you. I said you were not only dealing with complex trauma, but that you were autistic and also had physical damage to contend with. I went into the unique and varied circumstances we all deal with on the Barge. I'd hoped he would give you a little more leeway, but what did he do?

[ His voice is not rising. Rather, it's flattening. Flattening to a string of condemnations, judgment at the gall of this man. ]

He started tone policing you. He used tactics that resemble a common Twitter troll to try to get you 'canceled' on board. He twists words whenever he gets a hold of them. He's giving you rules- rules you both know you're only remotely following out of the goodness of your heart. He wants to smother you under a blanket of social pressure.

Let him crash and burn against the other wardens if he wants to. His shell might need to crack a little, so he can finally admit to the fear he's carrying in his heart.

[ He finally stops, realizes he's pacing back and forth, and lets out a deliberate breath. When he speaks again, his voice is far gentler again. ]

You haven't failed him. And you certainly don't need to apologize to me about it. We don't need a deal right away. We have all the time in the world now. Okay?

Edited (formatting) 2024-08-31 00:34 (UTC)

[Malcolm watches him, rapt. He's felt like there was a darkness in this... a manipulation and simultaneous demand for him to feel particular things that didn't sit right with him. They felt... Martinesque.

But he always questions whether it's him. His issues. His damage.]

...You think... I didn't do it wrong? It's just... something he's doing? [He lowers his voice.] It felt like what my father does but I thought... I mean... sometimes I imagine it.

You're not imagining it. I don't know if you realize, how far you've come in the time you've been here.

[ He smiles, thinking about it. But he realizes something else and it drops. ]

...oh. You can add love-bombing to the list too, by the way. I suspect he thought you'd be a kowtowing patzi if you did get paired and he's mad you're less controllable than he thought. Now he's trying to freeze you out.

Love-bombing? B.... oh. Oh, it does fit that pattern. We're in the devaluation stage. [He frowns and looks up at Will again.] It was working. I thought I was pretty inured to that sort of emotional abuse. [His expression crumples a little bit.] That's what Dr Whitly did. Even the last time I saw him, when I wouldn't fold like he wanted... he said he was a good father, but I was never a good son.

[ There's a moment, when Malcolm mentions what Martin said, that Will's face twists into sheer, murderous rage. If Martin appeared in front of him right now, Will would snap his neck with no preamble.

Luckily, he's not. And this isn't what Malcolm needs right now, either. Will squeezes his hand into a fist and takes a deep, slow breath. ]

That's so...uniquely cruel to you, Malcolm. I'm sorry.

[ Another couple of evening breaths and Will finally sounds like he's not going to growl out the rest of the conversation. ]

I believe you didn't notice it with Walter because of how it was implemented. He's focused on hitting your weaker points.

[Malcolm looks disappointed, more than anything. He'd made the gesture of being very open with Walter. He'd hoped trust would be reciprocated, not abused.]

On purpose?

I suspect so.

[ Will opens his mouth, but closes it before he says anything else. He sighs. ]

He is scared on some level, I think. Maybe he thinks that justifies what he's doing.

I do believe he's scared. I think that much is true. But not of what he says he's scared of. Maybe... he's scared of being forced to face himself. To... examine his problematic behaviors and work on them.

[He looks up at Will, then gets up to face him properly, slipping his arms around his waist.]

Thank you. For... seeing this. I couldn't.... I mean... it didn't feel right but... I couldn't see it. [He gives Will a tender kiss.] You know... you make me feel sane.

[ Will hums in agreement with Malcolm's assessment. Of course, it'll likely be a lot of work to untangle that from everything else Walter's been digging up as a problem. But that's what they're here for.

He hugs Malcolm back, holding onto shoulders with a fierce, possessive grip. It's the kind of grip most people wouldn't care for. He keeps the kiss gentle and tender, only pulling back when Malcolm does. ]

I'm glad. Because you are. And you- you bring me into focus. Not just...a version I want to be. All my seemingly dissonant desires, you make them sing in harmony.

[ He kisses Malcolm again, practically unable to help himself. ]

Sometimes it's tough to see when you're the focus of the storm. Even when that's what you're good at. I know that better than anyone.

[Malcolm enjoys that grip. He likes the fact that Will wants to hold on to him as badly as he wants to hold on to Will. He's not accustomed to that going both ways.]

I think it'll help me formulate how to proceed. It's... perspective that I needed.

[Malcolm showed him the piece of paper, not the envelope carefully made with scavenged cello-tape, the tiniest bit of residue transferred onto the letter proper. It was kept on that little shelf for days, the K-pods on higher rungs shuffled to keep it hidden, never once directly touched. Because what better way to connect with someone you can't reach any other way than by a letter? Walter tried showing Malcolm. He tried telling Malcolm. He tried to let the guy get across whatever point he was making by not reading the file. Now he's just waiting for Malcolm and hoping this will fix things, not bring another wave of unbelievably vitriolic anger down on his head. He can't blame the slightly younger man for being better suited to proving his worth through puzzles than anything else. The lines in black and white, all the proper nouns and numbers crisply formed, it's far easier to understand than these unbelievably unwieldy audio feeds...

Besides, he'd thought Malcolm would understand better than anyone that it would be much crueler were the trail of clues to his crimes written in red.]

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