trashchildren | For Joan

Joan has been guilt tripped her whole life. For her mother it was practically an art form. It's one of the reasons she takes so much guilt on her own shoulders, internalizing what she got from both her parents. So that doesn't bother her as much as the way her father talked about Ted. Which of course he heard.

She lowers her hands, staring down at them.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," she says softly.

"It's okay," he reassures gently. "He's in pain right now. Once we get to know each other, things will be alright."

He pauses a moment. "So, Wednesday, right?" he prompts, to get her to focus less on the interaction, and more on what needs to be done.

"Wednesday," she repeats softly, staring forward. It's good to have something to focus on. Part of what had caused her to fall apart so completely earlier was that she was so utterly helpless. Her mother was gone and she was hundreds of miles away and there was nothing she could do, not a thing.

But now she's got something, and she grabs onto it hard.

"Can you leave tonight?" she asks, still staring straight ahead. Her voice is still quiet, but now with a tightness to it. An efficiency.

He does pick up on the change, and he's fine to roll with it. He'll make sure to be there in case she does fall apart again, but he figures for now it's better to focus on what they need to do.

"Uh, let's see," he answers, taking a moment to consider. "I'll have a few things to sort out at work, but I think a lot of that can be done via my laptop. And packing shouldn't take long. I think it should be alright."

"Okay."

She stands up, heading out of the room, still focused straight ahead. "I'm going to talk to Sherlock and get my laptop."

She doesn't stop until she's down in the living room where Sherlock is sitting.

"Are you good to leave tonight?" she asks him. He nods. "Good," she says, heading for the door. "I'll buy the tickets."

Ted follows her, though a bit more slowly, still coming down the stairs as Joan speaks to Sherlock (he assumes that's a yes, even if he can't see or hear it), and then disappears out the door.

He comes down to the living room, still looking vaguely in the direction of the door. "And off she goes," he comments with a sad sigh.

Sherlock looks at the door as well, his expression a little sad, a little worried, but mostly stoic.

"You needn't take it personally," he says, looking at Ted. "As you know, it's what she does. At least this time a last minute flight to New York has a far more certain purpose."

"I don't," he reassures. Though as Sherlock points out, it does evoke some memories. But this time, Ted and Sherlock will be going with her.

He looks over at Sherlock, shaking off the wistfulness. "I'm gonna go arrange things and pack my stuff. You all good here?"

"I shall endeavor to wrangle socks into a suitcase all by my lonesome," he says dryly, standing with a sigh. "And then I must make a few phone calls. Make sure the Brownstone is open and ready for our arrival. And that Gregson and Bell are aware of the situation."

Sherlock also does better when there are tangible things he can do.

"Alright. I'll see you later," he says, grabbing his stuff and heading off. If nothing else, he does look forward to meeting someone of Joan's friends and family, even if it won't be very cheery circumstances.

He heads over to 221A first of all. The impractical bit of kind of living in two places is that his stuff is spread. He'll have to pop by his apartment in Richmond to get the rest of it, and make sure the place is safe to leave for a week or two. And he wants to explain things to Rebecca and Beard in person.

Joan is in the kitchen with her laptop when Ted arrives at 221A. She's using the same site that she did the last time she made a hasty departure. She's choosing to ignore the bad memories, shoving those down along with all of her feelings so she can focus on the task at hand.

"Hey," Ted says as he enters the kitchen and spots her there. "I'm gonna go pack my stuff so I'll be ready to leave with you. You call me if you need anything?" he says, gently touching her back. He wants to make sure it doesn't feel too much like last time, by reminding her they're going together.

"I'll join you in a minute," she says, her focus still on the screen. He can probably see she's choosing seating assignments now. Before she didn't really care, told them to put her anywhere. Now, though, she is making sure that the three of them are seated together and in the center rows so that Sherlock doesn't feel cramped and panic. She's put him in the aisle seat, then Ted next to him, then herself next to Ted. She figures if Sherlock does get nervous on the flight, Ted will be a lot better at keeping him calm that Joan will be right now. The two of them can also keep each other company, since Joan will likely be terrible company on a flight to her mother's funeral.

"Alright," he answers, watching her and the screen for a moment. He's guessing the same logic, with the additional assumption that if Joan gets nervous, she can also get up and wander. Ted's pretty comfortable on a plane, and he'll bring a book in case neither of them are particularly talkative.

He gives her shoulder an affection squeeze, then heads off to gather clothes and things he needs to pack them. He'd used the suitcase as a handy way to move things into this apartment, so that's tucked away here.

Joan makes the last couple decisions, pays for the tickets, and sends the boarding pass files to the printer. Then she gets up and joins him in their bedroom. She gets out her suitcase as well and opens it on the bed, then starts to pack in an efficient manner. She's not really planning out outfits, just taking individual clothing components along with socks and underwear.

She's still very focused.

Ted tries not to worry too much about Joan. For now, he's pretty sure this is helping her. There will come a time soon where she needs to slow down and feel her feelings, but for now he perfectly understands the need to focus on something else.

He's just packing alongside her, focusing on that. He makes sure to bring the suit, as well as clothes for cold weather. He hasn't looked up the weather forecast over there, but he assumes it's likely to be pretty darn cold.

When they're both all packed up (Ted has a bit less stuff in his suitcase, but packed slower), Ted closes it up and looks over at Joan. "I'm gonna head down to Richmond. You want to come along, or?" he offers.

Joan looks at her closed suitcase, and again feels at a loss. She looks up at him, the first time since the conversation with her father, and Ted can doubtless see the grief beginning to creep back in.

"I'd like that," she says. Better than being alone. It will give her something to do.

Ted nods and smiles gently. "Alright. Can you order us a cab?" he requests, picking up his suitcase. He's intentionally giving her something to do.

He's suddenly reminded of how he gives Henry tasks to keep him occupied and entertained. It's a solid strategy for all ages, it seems. Though he definitely doesn't plan to mention this anytime soon, since it would probably come off as a little infantilising.

Joan knows what he's doing. He realizes keeping busy helps her manage the grief. She smiles faintly, feeling so seen and loved.

"Sure," she says, pulling out her phone and scrolling through the numbers for cab companies. She chooses one she's had good luck with, which also happens to be the cab company Beard used to get Joan back to Ted.

She calls.

"Ten minutes," she tells Ted when the call is over.

Meanwhile, Ted brings their suitcases downstairs, and mentally starts going over what needs doing. He checks the trash and takes out the food garbage, so it doesn't stink up the place while they're gone, and he suggests Joan makes sure stuff is unplugged and in general safe to be left alone for a while.

It's easy enough to find things to do to fill the ten minutes at least. But then they carry the stuff to the cab, lock the door behind them, and get in and sit down, and suddenly there's not that much that can be done.

Ted reaches over and takes Joan's hand.

He keeps her busy, but not with make-work. These are things that absolutely should be done that she herself might not have thought about, being laser-focused on the task of getting to New York.

Once they're in the cab, Joan is staring out the window when Ted takes her hand. She turns her head to look at him, and gives him a very slight smile.

"I love you," she says quietly. There's a lot packed into those three words. Gratitude and apology and vulnerability and trust and grief.

Somehow he doesn't think handing her a Rubiks Cube will do the same trick it does with Henry. It needs to be something actual useful. Like making sure the fridge isn't full of perishables. (Which, he's sure Sherlock could just arrange for someone to check over all those things.) Or, if not useful, then it actually needs to be distracting and valuable enough in some other way to be worth spending time on.

He just wants to make this the least painful it can be. Especially right now, when she can't even share her grief with the people who knew her mother.

He returns the smile, and he understands the depth. "I love you too," he answers.

Sherlock knew her mother, but sharing grief with Sherlock is awkward for them both at the best of times. Ted is deeply empathetic, and can understand and respond to emotions that Sherlock can only be awkwardly mystified by, so she's grateful to have him by her side, even if she shuts down and shuts him out at various points.

Joan leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Can I take a nap at your place?" she asks softly.

"Of course," he answers, kissing her hair then leaning his head gently against hers. "I have to go by the club before we leave. I'm sure they'll be fine with me taking some time off, but I'd like to at least tell them in person."

"It's a good idea," she says softly. She appreciates Ted wanting to speak to people in person when it comes to things like this. Personal connections are important in general, and she knows they're particularly important to him.

After a moment, she murmurs: "I'm sorry to be taking you away again."

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