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TLV: IC Inbox

You've reached Timothy Stoker, leave a message at the tone and I'll get back to you.

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“Fucking giant nuisance,” Jon complains with deep fondness. It’s obvious he’s still unwinding and looking better as he goes.

“You know where to find me when you want to.”

A renewed invitation.

“Until then, Daniel.”

He's relieved they're doing better, but their playful banter only seems to cut him deeper. The barbed wire he had surrounded himself with when Jon was hurting is gone, and everything cuts far too deeply. He can't even compartmentalize properly. Maxwell isn't in his head. No one's in his head except his own shamed thoughts.

He's just sad and - tired.

"Tomorrow," he promises Tim and while he can hear his voice in his ears, it's distant. He knows that he just needs to process it and he'll be alright, but Jacobi hasn't processed anything properly in a very long time.

"Let a man mope for a day after being a complete asshole, huh?"

Jon gets a nod and he leaves to the table where he had fought with Hickey and picks up the books that had been scattered before he retreats to the cabin he calls home.

"Right." But that's the past thing he aims fondly at Jacobi as the man leaves, and he waits a good few seconds to make sure the man's footsteps are gone before he leans back on Jon's desk to take a long, very slightly haggard breath to exhale out in one long sigh.

"You alright, Jon?" His voice is still soft when he addresses Jon a good few seconds before he looks at him. Concerned, not pitying.

Jon just nods… and breathes out slow. He doesn’t look at anything or any one for a moment before he nods again. Like he just checked and it’s holding steady.

“That… that was close.” Beat. “Shit.”

"...yeah. It was a bit." He reaches over and gives Jon's shoulder a light squeeze. As much for his own need for contact as an anchor for Jon. "But we got in on the ground floor this time."

He leans into the touch and gives a brief, quick nod. Tim will feel him relax under his hand a little.

He lets out a soft, mirthless chuckle.

“I meant it. W-what I said to him. I-“ he finally looks up at Tim, “I’ve- I’m not repeating that mistake. Elias or no. That goes for him, and you, and Martin.”

"...good." He's not sure he can say thanks; there's too much hurt all tangled up in that, that he's not sure he could ever fully unknot. But seeing Jon's reaction then, hearing him say it. It does still mean something. "Genuinely, I'm glad to hear it."

Because he's not sure he'd survive going through that again. Not from Jon, not from anyone else. Every time he tried to prove his faith in someone who he thought trusted him, he only got burned.

(An insidious little voice wonders, if the problem is just the common denominator.)

But the thought doesn't show on his face. Doesn't need to. He twists to face Jon a bit better, resting one knee on the desk as he gets comfortable. "You remember that part of that means telling me if you need anything, yeah?"

"Elias off the ship," he says in a deadpan before letting out a tired, but still good-humored chuckle, "and I'll remember it as long as you do."

He taps one of the desk draws twice and lets his eyebrows jump. Drink? He'd do a smoke but they're still in the library. No ignition sources, thank you.

He gives a grateful little smile at the offer. "Yeah, sure," he says, pushing himself gently off the desk so he can flop weightily into the other office chair. "We've earned it."

Jon nods and reaches down to pull out the little box. He opens it, pulls out the two tumblers, and the bottle before he's pouring out a couple of fingers for both of them.

"Shit."

This one is not so much a comment of shock of frustration or even annoyance. It's a little bit of amazement.

The sheer simplicity of the statement makes Tim laugh, quiet but genuine, and he lifts his glass to meet Jon's.

"Cheers. For bloody stopping something."

Jon will lift it back.

"Cheers for... something going right. I was starting to think that was impossibly recently."

"Never let it be said the universe makes it easy for us."

He takes a sip as he leans back in the chair.

"Still, I think that's actually the most I've ever seen him get, like. Affected. By the shit we've been trying to explain. I owe you one for that."

He blinks and looks over at Tim.

"...I nearly had a second breakdown at him, neither of which are his responsibility, and I was largely useless to you during the discussion. You hardly 'owe' me."

"Is it bad to say that that's honestly the part that I think helped the most?" He can only hope Jon won't be mad at him for it. "I can yell and rave at Jacobi all I want for being an utter cock, but it was only after he was trying to help you with the first one that I saw him actually change his tack. Even if it was for the worse at that point."

Jon's not mad. He's a little baffled but he's not mad.

"Probably not something we should count on," he says slowly, "but... if it helped, I'm- I'm glad."

He sips at his scotch a little.

"I've been trying not to be so, um, such a, er, 'locked door'."

"Yes, Jon, I'm going to use regularly shattering you mentally as a therapy technique to help Jacobi develop a bloody conscience," he comments wryly. Come on.

He holds his glass over its mouth, swirling the scotch idly. "It is good that you're trying to be less conceal, don't feel about everything, though. Seems like it's already paying dividends."

He more wobbles than swirls before he takes his own sip.

"I'm still not very good at it. Ask Martin."

"You say like I don't," he points out. "Besides, baby steps are still progress. That you're telling people things at all is measurable improvement."

"Eh," he says, and it's very clearly 'if you say so'. He's not giving himself even an ounce of credit. Especially since it's been coming out in the worst ways.

A breath out.

"How are things, um, going for you?"

He mimics Jon's "Eh." with a slight grin. "Taylor's working in the spa now, little turd." Said affectionately. "So I'm a part-time babysitter again."

It's not quite what Jon's asking, but it's certainly a change in circumstances.

"She comes over to play video games on occasion, though not recently. And she's a fan of Winifred, though I've hardly met many people who aren't." a pause.

"Elizabeth wasn't. It was always odd, since she liked to talk and walk."

"Some people prefer walking and talking without 'mind for when the great gallumphing beast you're dragging along takes a shit'." He says like he doesn't take every opportunity to give Winnie a good long scruffing and smooshes her big soft ears every time he enters Jon's cabin. He was always a cat person, contrary to presumed public opinion, but Winnie has a special place in his heart.

"Still, Tay's got three jobs now, she told me. Probably that might be part of the lack of visits."

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