"Then you should tell him to his face," Beard answers immediately. He'd clearly anticipated this possibility, and is having absolutely none of it. "He deserves that much, don't you think?"
The cab that took Beard here is still waiting at the side of the road.
She sees the cab, and she wants to go with him, so badly.
"Beard, I..." She shakes her head, unable to talk. He doesn't understand.
"It's because of me," she says, barely above a whisper. "He was hurt because of me. If I go to him...I might not be able to leave again." There's a lot of pain in those words. "And he'll be in danger."
Beard frowns. He doesn't know the details of the case, so he has no idea if that's true, or whether she's just projecting and making assumptions. It probably doesn't matter, because she believes it to be true, and it doesn't change what he has to say.
"Well then he deserves to make that choice himself," he says. His voice is softer, less confrontational, but still determined. "Just cause it's because of you doesn't make it your fault, and just because you're scared doesn't give you the right to be that selfish, not after what he just went through. If he just went through hell, and he decides you're still worth it, then you at least owe it to him to tell him why you're leaving anyway."
Beard follows, opening the cab door for her, and getting in after her. He tells the driver to go to the hospital.
Once the cab sets off, he reaches over and gently puts a hand on her shoulder. Offering her to lean against him again, if she wants to. While he's here to make sure she does right by Ted, it's for her sake too, and he doesn't like to see her hurting.
She takes his offer, leaning against him and closing her eyes. She's so tired, and so sad. She knows he's trying to do the right thing, and that he cares about her. She cares about him, too.
Beard wraps his arm around her, holding her and rubbing her arm gently.
"What happened to Ted isn't your fault," he answers gently. It may not be what she's apologizing for, and he already said it, but he thinks she really needs to hear it, and probably more than once. "He wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. And I know, I was there."
It's hard for her to accept that. Joan has carried the grief and the guilt for a number of things over the course of her life, from the patient who died on her table to Liam being lost to drugs to Andrew's death. She's dedicated her life to saving people, and when she fails it sticks with her.
She's quiet for the rest of the ride, just resting against him. She can't even plan out what she's going to say. She's too tired and in pain.
Beard sits in silence with her until they get there. He doesn't rush her once they're at the hospital, just walking next to her and letting her take it at her own speed.
When they make it to the hospital room, Ted is there alone, just reading a book to pass the time. When he sees Joan he sits up immediately. Beard waits outside, closing the door after them and making sure they get some privacy, for whatever is about to happen.
"Joan!" Ted exclaims, and there's a relieved smile on his face, which immediately becomes a worried sad look. He wants to go to her, but as it is he can only reach out for her.
Seeing him makes her pulse quicken. For a moment she intends to hang back, stay by the door, because she knows if she goes to him she won't ever want to let go.
But she can't stay back. She loves him so much, and that worried sad look is killing her.
So she goes to him and into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.
Ted wraps his arms around her immediately, not even caring when her impacting him makes his ribs ache. "Hey," he whispers softly into her hair, rubbing her back a little. "I missed you.."
He doesn't ask if she's okay, because she's clearly not. He can't imagine what she's feeling. He just knows he wants to try to help make it better.
He doesn't rush her to ask where she was, what's wrong, why she didn't answer, any of that. He just holds her for as long as she needs until she's ready to say it herself.
It's not the response she expected, just his warm, steady embrace and those words. She expected at very least one of the several very fair questions he doubtless has. But no. Acceptance and affection from the start.
"I missed you," she answers, her face still hidden. Then, softer and with hidden tears: "I'm sorry."
"About what?" he asks again, pulling back to look at her, desperate to understand. He keeps his hand gently on her arms, trying to steady her.
This time it might have been just an apology for disappearing, but it being an exact echo of the text makes it feel like it's more significant than that.
It's an apology for a lot of things. For disappearing. For worrying him. For not letting him decide whether or not to continue being together. But the way he's looking at her, with that intensity, that level of concern, suggests he wants to get right to the root of things. Fair enough.
"Turner Chapman was a pawn," she says, her eyes on his, searching them for understanding and for...what? Hurt? Anger? Rejection? "He was manipulated into doing what he did. Someone used him as a weapon."
Before there's understanding, there's confusion and worry. Then when the understanding comes, there's concern, for both of them, and maybe a small hint of fear.
"And... what? You think this someone did it to hurt you?" he asks. Because that's what he's assuming she thinks, based on Sherlock reminding him about Andrew.
She picks up the most on that hint of fear, because it's what she both expects and fears he will feel. It's what she's nearly certain will make him choose to leave her.
She pulls back a little, almost subconsciously, as if in anticipation of being asked to leave.
"I do," she says, her voice strained. "There's a woman named Moriarty. She's the head of an international crime syndicate. We've encountered her before. She hates me, because she's obsessed with Sherlock and because I caught her once. The case we've been working on turned out to be part of her syndicate, and Sherlock and I had been trying to follow the evidence back to her. This..." She lifts her arms slightly to indicate him and the situation. "This is what she does. She doesn't target people directly. She goes after their families. Their friends. People they..."
As Joan explains, Ted's worry grows. Not just because of this woman, but because he can feel Joan pulling away, both physically and emotionally. Like she wants to protect him, that she's doing this for his own good even as it pains her, that she thinks this is what he needs and maybe even wants. And he can see that it's killing her.
And then she breaks off, and Ted knows exactly what she was going to say, not just because she said it before, but because he can see it in all of her.
"Hey, hey.." he says, comforting but also trying to get her to focus on him and not... everything else. He reaches up and puts a hand on her cheek, looking at her with intensity. "I love you too, Joan."
Because if she wants to make this choice, he needs to make sure she knows that first. He needs to know that she knows what she would be giving up.
He touches her cheek, and says those words, and her breath hitches in a sob. She puts her hand over the hand on her cheek and leans into it, her eyes closing, tears slipping down her face.
"I thought maybe you didn't," she confesses in a whisper.
"Of course I do," he answers softly. He leans forward and kisses her softly for a moment. He cups her cheeks with his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs, before pulling her into another hug, holding onto her tightly. Like he's afraid of losing her.
She kisses him back, her eyes closed, lifting her hands to cup his elbows. She opens her eyes to look into his as he wipes he tears from her cheeks, seeing the love in them that's been there for a long time but that she was too afraid to acknowledge. Then he pulls her into a hug and she hugs him back, just as tightly. She doesn't want to let him go.
He sits there holding her, relieved that she's holding him just as tight back. Whatever terrible challenge is thrown at them, he'd rather face it with her than without her.
"You know, when I was down there..." he starts quietly, still holding onto her as he speaks. "It was just the thought of two people helping me get through it. Henry... and you." He rubs her back. "We'll figure things out, okay?"
She closes her eyes as he tells her about how the thought of her helped him survive his ordeal. She wants to protest that he wouldn't have even been in that position if it wasn't for her, but she knows he'll have none of it. He wants to be with her. Even after all of this, he wants to be with her. Part of Joan is telling her she needs to break it off, that if she truly loved him she would protect him by leaving him, by catching that plane.
But she can't. She can't leave him. She loves him, and he loves her, and she knows it would kill both of them to be torn apart.
Ted squeezes her tighter once she agrees, so relieved that she's here with him and she's not hiding or running away anymore.
He pulls back to look at her, hands sliding down her arms and taking her hands in his.
"If you want, we can pretend to break it off. Go back to pretending we're not together," he suggests. "Until you guys figure this out."
He doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to let fear rule them. But he also sees that the fear isn't entirely baseless, and that her being worried about him might just make it harder to find a solution. And if it's as serious as she thinks, he really doesn't want to risk Henry's safety.
She tightens her hands on his, lowering her head and letting out a shuddering sigh as she considers that. "I don't want to be away from you," she says, and looks back up at him, her expression pained. "But it might be for the best."
She can't guarantee his safety, as much as she wants to. But this might protect him for a little while, while she and Sherlock run down their leads and figure out what exactly is going on.
He nods, and it pains him too. But he's also not a fool. And he can also be patient. He's got plenty of people to support him, he knows he's not alone in this. And Joan's got Sherlock.
"It'll be worth it if we can be together without looking over our shoulders," he reassures her, stroking the back of her hands with his thumbs.
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trashchildren2021-06-24 07:33 pm
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The cab that took Beard here is still waiting at the side of the road.
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"Beard, I..." She shakes her head, unable to talk. He doesn't understand.
"It's because of me," she says, barely above a whisper. "He was hurt because of me. If I go to him...I might not be able to leave again." There's a lot of pain in those words. "And he'll be in danger."
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"Well then he deserves to make that choice himself," he says. His voice is softer, less confrontational, but still determined. "Just cause it's because of you doesn't make it your fault, and just because you're scared doesn't give you the right to be that selfish, not after what he just went through. If he just went through hell, and he decides you're still worth it, then you at least owe it to him to tell him why you're leaving anyway."
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"Okay," she says.
She steps out and closes the door, locking it behind her, and heads for the cab.
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Once the cab sets off, he reaches over and gently puts a hand on her shoulder. Offering her to lean against him again, if she wants to. While he's here to make sure she does right by Ted, it's for her sake too, and he doesn't like to see her hurting.
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"I'm sorry," she whispers.
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"What happened to Ted isn't your fault," he answers gently. It may not be what she's apologizing for, and he already said it, but he thinks she really needs to hear it, and probably more than once. "He wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. And I know, I was there."
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She's quiet for the rest of the ride, just resting against him. She can't even plan out what she's going to say. She's too tired and in pain.
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When they make it to the hospital room, Ted is there alone, just reading a book to pass the time. When he sees Joan he sits up immediately. Beard waits outside, closing the door after them and making sure they get some privacy, for whatever is about to happen.
"Joan!" Ted exclaims, and there's a relieved smile on his face, which immediately becomes a worried sad look. He wants to go to her, but as it is he can only reach out for her.
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But she can't stay back. She loves him so much, and that worried sad look is killing her.
So she goes to him and into his arms, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder.
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He doesn't ask if she's okay, because she's clearly not. He can't imagine what she's feeling. He just knows he wants to try to help make it better.
He doesn't rush her to ask where she was, what's wrong, why she didn't answer, any of that. He just holds her for as long as she needs until she's ready to say it herself.
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"I missed you," she answers, her face still hidden. Then, softer and with hidden tears: "I'm sorry."
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This time it might have been just an apology for disappearing, but it being an exact echo of the text makes it feel like it's more significant than that.
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"Turner Chapman was a pawn," she says, her eyes on his, searching them for understanding and for...what? Hurt? Anger? Rejection? "He was manipulated into doing what he did. Someone used him as a weapon."
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"And... what? You think this someone did it to hurt you?" he asks. Because that's what he's assuming she thinks, based on Sherlock reminding him about Andrew.
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She pulls back a little, almost subconsciously, as if in anticipation of being asked to leave.
"I do," she says, her voice strained. "There's a woman named Moriarty. She's the head of an international crime syndicate. We've encountered her before. She hates me, because she's obsessed with Sherlock and because I caught her once. The case we've been working on turned out to be part of her syndicate, and Sherlock and I had been trying to follow the evidence back to her. This..." She lifts her arms slightly to indicate him and the situation. "This is what she does. She doesn't target people directly. She goes after their families. Their friends. People they..."
Her voice catches in her throat.
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And then she breaks off, and Ted knows exactly what she was going to say, not just because she said it before, but because he can see it in all of her.
"Hey, hey.." he says, comforting but also trying to get her to focus on him and not... everything else. He reaches up and puts a hand on her cheek, looking at her with intensity. "I love you too, Joan."
Because if she wants to make this choice, he needs to make sure she knows that first. He needs to know that she knows what she would be giving up.
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"I thought maybe you didn't," she confesses in a whisper.
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"You know, when I was down there..." he starts quietly, still holding onto her as he speaks. "It was just the thought of two people helping me get through it. Henry... and you." He rubs her back. "We'll figure things out, okay?"
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But she can't. She can't leave him. She loves him, and he loves her, and she knows it would kill both of them to be torn apart.
"Okay," she murmurs.
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He pulls back to look at her, hands sliding down her arms and taking her hands in his.
"If you want, we can pretend to break it off. Go back to pretending we're not together," he suggests. "Until you guys figure this out."
He doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to let fear rule them. But he also sees that the fear isn't entirely baseless, and that her being worried about him might just make it harder to find a solution. And if it's as serious as she thinks, he really doesn't want to risk Henry's safety.
He just needs to know that it's temporary.
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She can't guarantee his safety, as much as she wants to. But this might protect him for a little while, while she and Sherlock run down their leads and figure out what exactly is going on.
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"It'll be worth it if we can be together without looking over our shoulders," he reassures her, stroking the back of her hands with his thumbs.
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