trashchildren | For Joan

Those whispered words and the tightness of his embrace weaken Joan's calm, and she closes her eyes as well, her own hold tightening slightly. When they part she keeps her hands lightly on his arms for as long as possible, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. She takes a shuddering breath to steady herself.

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, they've got me on some kind of pain meds, so I'm alright. Probably a little loopy though," he says with a chuckle.

He waves the other two over, and Rebecca takes her chance to get a hug immediately. Which Ted knows is uncommon for her, and he gives her back an extra little rub.

"We're so glad you're okay," she says as they part.

Beard is stoic, not that that's unusual, but there's definitely some buried emotion there too. He does come in for a hug immediately too, but doesn't say anything.

Once everyone’s gotten their hugs, Ted holds his hand out for Joan's hand.

Joan steps aside for Rebecca and Beard, taking the opportunity to quickly wipe her eyes. She smiles, knowing how relieved Rebecca and Beard must be, and how happy Ted must be to get his arms around his friends.

When Ted reaches for her hand she takes it, squeezing gently. She doesn't know the visitor policies in this hospital, but she doesn't intend to let go of that hand any more than she absolutely has to, for as long as possible.

Once they reach this part, no one seems to know what to say for a moment.

Ted's first instinct is to ask about them, which he supposes is not maybe the best time for -- he has an inkling they've mostly been feeling worried, and are currently feeling guilty about the time they were not yet worried.

And he doesn't want to talk about what happened yet. Certainly not with all three of them as audience.

"What are you gonna do about practice?" he asks Beard.

"We cancelled today. We'll probably return tomorrow with me and Nate. You can come back when you're ready, but until then, we've got it covered."

Ted nods thoughtfully. He starts thinking back to what the guy was saying at him about the team, getting a dark sort of look for a moment, before shaking his head to stop thinking about it.

"They, uh, haven't asked me any questions yet, the doctors have been holding them off, so I'll probably have to do that soon," he says.

She sees that look on his face, a darkness so foreign to him, and she can guess he's thinking about what that man did to him. Then he mentions being questioned, and she's pretty certain that's it.

"I can stay with you, if you want," she offers. He has the right to have someone with him as he's questioned, and Joan is familiar with procedure.

There is a brief moment of protective instinct, where he wants to shield her from having to hear what happened. But she probably deserves to know, and while it won't be fun, he knows she can handle it. Better than most people would know that about their significant other. Besides, she saw him down there, and can probably piece together a pretty accurate picture.

So he nods and gives her a grateful smile.

She smiles back, squeezing his hand. It will also give her information to pass on to Sherlock, who is working the case with Scotland Yard.

She thinks about Sherlock questioning the suspect, trying to figure out if the kidnapping and near murder was Moriarty's doing.

The thought makes her tighten her hold on his hand.

Edited 2021-07-05 02:03 (UTC)

Ted strokes her hand with his thumb reassuringly.

They don't have time for much more than that though, as there are some cops hovering at the door.

"Hey, I'll talk to you guys later. I'll be alright, don't worry," he says to Beard and Rebecca.

She gives him a watery smile and gives his other hand a quick squeeze, before they both vacate the room.

The cops part to let Beard and Rebecca leave before entering. Joan recognizes both of them. They've worked cases with her and Sherlock on a number of occasions, and had always had a good rapport with them.

"Mr. Lasso," the older one said. "I'm Inspector McCoy, this is Inspector Rudd. We're going to be asking you some questions." He nods toward Joan. "Miss Watson. Mr. Holmes said you'd be here."

Sherlock probably sent them, and Joan silently thanks him.

"I'm glad to see both of you," she says, then turns to Ted. "I know them. We've worked with them before."

"Yeah, okay," Ted answers with a nod when they say they're gonna ask him some questions. "Nice to meet you guys."

It obviously doesn't have the same chipper warmth he usually gives, but he means it nonetheless, knowing they're there to help. And when Joan says she knows them, that's reinforced. "Oh good, okay."

It's strange how that lack of chipper warmth hits Joan. She's seen Ted smile at people shouting obscenities in his face. Somehow this seems worse to her than his physical injuries. What did that man do to him?

"Let's start with Sunday morning," McCoy says. "Can you tell us what happened?"

Joan remembers the scene she and Beard saw on the tape, how startling it was to see it. She squeezes his hand.

"Uh, yeah," Ted answers. "I went out to get coffee, at... my usual place." He doesn't remember the name of it right now, despite the fact it's right next door. He frowns softly at himself.

"Then I went to the bakery around the corner. I don't remember when, but it was early... On my way back, this guy -- Wait, what's his name? The guy in the house, do you have his name?" he asks, interrupting himself and looking between the three of them.

Joan notices how Ted is unable to name the coffee shop. That sort of thing isn't uncommon with concussions, but she makes a mental note of it and keeps an eye out for similar things in case it indicates a bigger problem.

The cops glance at Joan.

"Turner Chapman," she answers.

Ted turns that name over in his head. "He wouldn't tell me, he just said it was Richmond..." he says, frowning gently as he looks into space. He's glad to finally have a name to the face, but in a way also almost... confused? By finally knowing it. He'd gotten so used to this nameless tormentor, and it had almost gotten easier to think of him that way, rather than a person who could choose to do this to him.

The cops frown, confused.

"He said his name was Richmond?" Rudd says.

Joan understands.

"The fans," she deduces softly, looking at Ted, her expression a mixture of sadness with a tinge of anger for him. "He was hurting you because he blamed you for the loss."

Ted nods and points at Joan, looking at the cops. "That's it."

He doesn't go more into that though. At least not yet. He sits there for a moment before realizing he should continue.

"Anyway, on my way back, this guy -- Turner. He had his arm like, in a sling?" he explains, frowning softly to concentrate as he's thinking back, trying to make sure he gets it right and says the important things. "And he was in this van, big white van. And he asked me for help carrying something. So I go into the van. And then I guess he must've knocked me out, cause everything went black."

It's terrible that the man decided to take the frustration of the loss out on Ted, but there is a silver lining for Joan. If this was all due to a crazy fan, then Moriarty had nothing to do with it.

He recounts how he was taken, and Joan's heart aches for him. He was being his kind, friendly, helpful self, and the man had taken advantage of it to hurt him.

"Beard and I found your coffee cup and the bakery bag in the alley," she says softly, hoping that maybe if she shares a little of how they found him, it will give him something to hold onto, the knowledge that what he went through was not wholly unseen. "That's how we knew you had been taken, and where. The market across the street has a surveillance camera, which showed the white Opel van entering the alley. And you, coming later. We couldn't see who you were talking to, but we saw you go in. And not come out."

Ted looks up at her as he starts to explain - he didn't know Beard had been with her, but knowing that, his heart is warmed. Of course he was helping. He may not be a detective, but Beard's got his back.

It's strange, he knows it's still only Monday. He only lost a day and a half or so. He would've guessed longer. He felt so lost to the world, knowing a bit more about what went on while he was gone actually helps. Not just to know they were looking for him, but just... that the world was still going. It's somehow encouraging rather than demotivating.

He gives her hand a squeeze, and smiles (albeit somewhat weakly) up at her.

Then he looks down and clears his throat a bit, thinking how to continue. This is the part where it gets harder.

"I, uh... When I woke up, I was already in the basement. He'd handcuffed me to a pipe," he explains, gesturing at his bandaged wrist. "He.. dumped a bucket of ice water on me, to wake me..." He frowns, pausing, his shoulders tightening a little as a chill runs down his back at the memory.

Joan knows that Ted needs her to be strong here, a rock he can cling to so he doesn't get swept away in the memory of the violence that was done to him. So she stays calm, only frowning faintly in concern as he describes what happened. Then he trails off, and she can see him tightening up. She switches his hand to her free one and uses the other to gently rub his back.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "Take your time."

She glances at McCoy and Rudd, and sees them standing patiently. One reason they've worked so well with Joan in the past is that they never pressure victims.

Ted draws a steadying breath, thankful for Joan grounding him. He tries to shut out how it felt, tries just to remember the words, the actions, not how he was feeling himself. Which doesn't come naturally to him, being a very emotionally driven person, but ends up being easier than he expects, detaching himself from it.

"Um. He said he wanted-- I asked him what he wanted, and he said, 'I want a world without'.. Um. 'Without fucking Ted Lasso," he explains. Ted is exposed to swearing all the time, he doesn't necessarily mind it that much, but he still automatically wants to censor it, and has to remind himself not to.

"Then he kicked me. In the knee," he says, pointing to his right knee. "He was mocking me, then he kicked me again, other knee. Then he stomped on my ankle. I think that's when he broke it," he continues, voice flat and detached at this point. "I tried talking to him, but he just deflected. Then he found my found."

He intentionally doesn't say why he found the phone. "He started reading my texts, mocking me, then he smashed it. Stepped on it. He was really angry. Like... Aggressive, violent, about everything he was doing," he says, frowning like he's almost confused about it, or maybe even concerned about him. "He told me this story, about..."

He has to stop suddenly, swallowing. Takes another breath to steady himself. "About his friend's dog, who.."

He stops again, his face screwing up. Thinking back on it, it's worse now, with everything that happened later. He tries to take another breath, try to calm himself, squeezing Joan's hand, trying to lean on her, but it feels like something is trying to choke him.

"I'm sorry, can we take a break?" he asks, looking up at the cops.

It's horrible to listen to, and Joan knows listening to it can't be one millionth as horrible as experiencing it. And the physical violence is bad enough, but the emotional violence is worse. Joan knows Ted connects to people emotionally, that he sees even the fans in the pub that scream at him as human beings worthy of respect, even care. The first thing he wanted to know from them was the suspect's name for goodness sake. To have that man, to whom Ted would have given the shirt off his back, say things like wanting a world "without fucking Ted Lasso"...it hits her in the gut, and must have been a million times worse for him.

As he talks, Joan notices him tensing up. Then notices him having trouble breathing. When he asks for a break, Joan looks up at the cops. "I'll let you know when we're ready to continue," she says to them. They nod and head out.

Once they're gone Joan turns to Ted. "Hey," she says softly, squeezing his hand and rubbing his back. "You okay?"

Edited 2021-07-05 05:42 (UTC)

He shakes his head a little bit at the question. No point in lying about it or pretending this is all fine. He does know he can be not okay in front of Joan.

His face is still screwed up, and he looks like he's on the verge of tears. He's holding her hand tightly, not saying anything, like he's scared of opening his mouth.

"Hey," she says gently, squeezing his hand and touching his face. "It's okay. Anything that happened, you don't have to keep it inside. You can let it out. Cry if you need to. If you need to fall apart, I'm here to hold the pieces. You are safe. Okay?"

He nods weakly, so grateful for her kindness and support and understanding. It's when she says he's safe that the first tear falls, but he doesn't let himself fall apart just yet.

Instead he lets go of her hand and carefully moves himself a bit to the side of the hospital bed, giving her space to sit down next to him. He just needs to hold her a while, and be held by her.

Joan had the same thought, wanting to hold him and let him hold her. When he moves over she carefully climbs into the hospital bed with him and wraps her arms around him. She kisses him tenderly, careful with his split lip, then just holds him close.

"Do you want to lie down?" she murmurs.

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