villagelogs | 024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

024-027 » neither reward nor punishment

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central/Western Mathias + ???
WHEN: Days 024-027
WHAT: The consequences of their actions.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here! The next log will be posted January 23rd.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Deadly Avenger "Onryo" 怨霊

DAYS 024-025
CONSEQUENCES
“There are in nature neither rewards nor punishments —
there are consequences.”
— Robert G. Ingersoll
When the unwilling residents of Mathias Township wake on the morning of the 24th day, they will find themselves in yet another set of frustratingly unnerving circumstances. None of them are where they last remember being, and some of them have strange marks on the palms of their left hands. It's all incredibly unsettling, but truthfully they should be used to it by now. No one will remember traveling to their new location.

Residents can wake up anywhere within their new location and in any position. Curled up in a bed, sprawled on a couch, huddled beneath a coffee table, propped against a wall... Wherever they are, they will themselves to be in quite an unusual state. While they are wearing whatever clothing items they went to sleep in, plus their shoes and a coat. The newest arrivals to Mathias Township will perhaps stand out for being slightly more appropriately dressed than their new neighbors. They are all a bit damp, physically worn out, and half-frozen from their apparent walk through a blizzard.

Each of the four locations is inescapable — residents are trapped, with exterior doors and windows being shut tight and a blizzard raging outside. The locations are stocked with fresh food and water and a large pile of firewood for the fireplaces in each building. The circumstances residents will face, however, may vary wildly between locations as the forces at work in Mathias respond to the recent actions of certain individuals.

BOARDING HOUSE | GREY GULL
NEW HOUSE | MYSTERY MANSION

These residents will wake with a mark on their left hand palms, a spiraling black symbol similar to those some may have seen around town. All marks are identical and cannot be removed, but will have seemingly vanished from their skin on the morning of the 26th day.

Castiel, Daisy Johnson, Dean Winchester
Elena Gilbert, Elijah Mikaelson, Helen Magnus
Phil Coulson, Quentin Coldwater, Sherlock Holmes

DAYS 026-027
IN THE AFTERMATH
After their ordeals of the past two days, the unfortunate residents of Mathias Township will be grateful to find that they were back where they are supposed to be, a chill still clinging to their clothes in whatever place they went to sleep the night of the 23rd day. New arrivals will wake in the living room of the boarding house. None of the residents will wake with anything in their possession from the locations in which they were previously trapped, including any notes or documentation they may have made during their time there.

CONDITIONS UPDATE
— SNOW continues to fall heavily on Days 024-025, resulting in white out conditions from the wind that blows in gusts of over 35 mph; the temperature also drops drastically, making conditions extremely dangerous for residents. The blizzard clears on Day 26 and residents are left with a cold, calm world covered in white.

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the northern section of town, beginning just before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be. Venturing into the fog is... ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue to plague the town. Kylo Ren and Thomas Richardson have vanished without a trace.

— NO NEW DEATHS have occurred in town, but there is a new "grave" in the small makeshift graveyard near the schoolhouse. Rey's corpse has been moved and covered with stones to wait for the ground to thaw enough for a proper burial.

— THE LANTERNS will be gone from the morning of Day 024. No trace of them remains.

OOC UPDATES
— A GIFT for everyone! As a thank you for being part of this spooky little game, every character in the game is being gifted 2 Activity Points. These may be banked over here — instead of linking to an AC post, you may put "New Year gift" in that field. Happy 2021, friends!

— NEW LAYOUTS have been installed for our communities! Huge thanks to our Eldritch Librarian Stars for putting in the time to get this place looking shiny. (You may have also noticed some new page layouts being installed — these are also our Librarian's handiwork!)

— DISCOVERIES have been collected and collated for your review. Please note that this is OOC information only, put together for the purpose of helping you as players see connections and possibilities for CR and your own character's potential avenues of exploration and investigation. (If we are missing something, please report it so we can add it to the list.)

— REMINDERS — Don't forget about the bulletin board. Please continue reporting your updates to locations, plots, and discoveries. The map of Mathias has been added to the locations page for ease of reference. Make sure your character's sanity level is kept updated. Prospective players are still joining the TDM, so it's recommended to track new top-levels so you don't miss them.

navigation | faq | setting | mod contact

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cups were for company.

"Good to know they got at least two nice places here. Not that this place ain't nice. Very single family home, dog in the front yard, barbeques and fish frys in the summer.." As much as he hated small towns, he liked the beach, the water, and what had to have come from it. He could almost imagine these people going about their days, John and Jane Q Public.

He didn't miss the point Doc put on the word home and smiled crookedly at him for a few seconds before it ebbed off his features, dark eyes studying Doc as he fell back to joking.

"Start kickin' people out if they get too rowdy? We get any more souls here, might have to." He debated against chasing the Home argument but he couldn't help himself.

"Home requires people to be there. Someone to be there when you get there or worry if you ain't here by dark." He let a beat pass. "This place ain't what I'd usually call home but.. It's got all the requirements and I like the view."

In Doc's humble opinion there is always space for more. They will redo the living room. Shift the bed and add a partition to this room. Even find some cladding and padding up half the garage if they have to. That door downstairs has to always be open for anyone who should need to come through it. There will always be room for lost souls.

"Well then I shall stand, or- sit. Corrected." Doc tilts his head and cracks a smile, holding the bottle with three fingers left against his thigh. "If that is home then I have been home, ever since it was just the two of us staring into a bathtub talking horseshit about copper pipes and cornmeal."

He lifts the bottle in a silent toast and almost empties it when he tips it back this time.

"Guess you never know when you've got something worth holding onto until it's gone."

Despite his going along with the joke, he agreed. It was half the reason he suggested renovating the garage to hold more beds - consideration of the weather and all. Why not turn the door into the front face of a fully built and insulated wall? Give them more room to house themselves. He'd been half thinking about keeping an eye out for a house the size of the boarding house, really, to no avail.

Raylan's smile spread warmly as he thought back that far. It wasn't really that far but twenty plus days here seemed like much longer, somehow. Something that wasn't a bad thing, by any stretch of the measure. "You're gonna have to write it down one day so I can remember it."

He slipped his hand around the bottle neck next to him and smirked. If Doc emptied that bottle, he'd have to come up for the other one. The smirk spread into a warmer more sincere smile at the sentiment.

"I don't wanna give credit to Mathis for anything, so I won't." But he was glad they were all back. "You and Malcolm. Y'all are worth a lot. Worth worryin' and goin' after." There was no dressing it up with extra words to soften the blow of sentiment, not this time. Just a Tipsy Feeling Raylan. He didn't have time for the dancing around more often than not. They'd taken a few steps around but he had to say it sideways but outright.

He cared about Doc and Malcolm both. Maybe more than he had any rights to but. Here he sat doing it anyway.

"I did. Around about this time last week I... thought I was not going to return. So I wrote down everything from willow bark to the refinements in technique for how to make this last batch of moonshine to people not living in this house that I would have liked for you to check in on sometime. Miss Ellie and Miss Johnson, the Hargreeves, and a few others." That is his legacy here. Malcolm, bathtub bootleg liquor, and people. A skilled gunfighter is just another word for a executioner and he does not want to be remembered as a killer.

"Ain't anybody here who would bite your head off if you said you actually cared." But he appreciates it nonetheless. "But for what it's worth I would come after your sorry ass if you go off and do anything stupid, and you're gon' wish you were dead then," Doc jokes. Except he's not really joking. He would go off the way Raylan went off on him after his museum expedition and stretch the limit of his polite vocabulary to the edges of hot, explosive near-expletives.

"I get the occasional strange dream myself, by the way." It's called a nightmare. Or sometimes a flashback. He refuses to acknowledge it as either. "In case you get an elbow to the face. Wasn't personal."

Raylan's face pinched, eyes swinging over and around the room like he could narrow down where the letter was and read it in a single glance before he brought them back to Henry. Suddenly he felt like they'd been drastically closer to losing him then before, somehow. He was glad they hadn't had to find it for the reasons Henry was preparing for.

"I don't know that Daisy would appreciate that but.. Ellie I'm already half keepin' an eye on.." Offhandedly, he started fiddling with his horseshoe ring with his thumb. He didn't like them having plans for when or if they vanished. It was the smart thing, for sure but he'd been staring at his own gravestone long enough. He wasn't ready to start imagining Henry's. Not tonight, anyway.

Raylan huffed a little breath at the assurance no one would bite him for saying he cared and while he believed Henry, it didn't feel like it could be just that easy. The curse of never really getting to do it. But his smile spread a bit further at the threat. Yeah, that sounded about right. "I'll do my best to let you know before I go divin' into the stupid pool if you'll do the same," he ventured, pulling up the bottle next to him and opening it up. After taking a drink of his own, he held it out, like it was their agreements version of a handshake.

It wasn't the out and out admission that Henry might have been angling for but he knew all too well that Raylan was a man who proved things by action more than words. Unless pushed to it, anyway.

Leaning over the edge of the bed, Doc lowers the empty glass bottle near the corner leg where it is less likely to get stepped on or kicked. He can't help having made these plans. He has had time to think about it and the more he mulled over the scenarios that could lead to a potentially untimely demise it became more and more of an inevitable eventuality, not merely a passing possibility. Too many things in this town could get to them, at any time, and there were no guarantees that they would return like a few others had, before.

"You have yourself a deal," he promises as he takes the newly cracked open bottle from Raylan, gulping down two mouthfuls before wiping at the corner of his lips with the back of his hand. It's starting to make his vision swim and his eyes water but since he's sitting he can probably still play it cool. There might be no gentlemen here in this room right now but that doesn't mean he feels he can let his mask slip enough to let go of that certain kind of unhealthy, stoic, stone cold machismo that stems from needing to be a bedrock that can hold others up and centuries old social pressures that never quite left the South.

"I do not know if you have made any similar plans yourself," Doc starts, holding the bottle between them with his forearm draped over his knee within Raylan's reach. "But we could have a hundred or a hundred thousand more nights to come, or this could be our last night alive. I would honour anything you might wish to ask of me."

"No. No plans. Got plans enough at home.. Grew up with the family headstones in the front yard, right as you walk in. Been starin' at my name in that stone for too many years already. If I go, I go. Only control I got is not eggin' death on. Bein' smart."

Gently, Raylan took the bottle, considered the mouth of it for a long moment before putting the cap back on and setting it down onto the bed next to him so he could lean forward the fraction he'd had to lean back to do all that. Henry might think he was playin' it cool but Raylan, as drunk as he was himself, could still see Doc forcing it down his throat. To stop what specifically, Raylan didn't know but.. He knew he wanted to help.

"Somethin' happens to me, you'll take care of Malcolm. The other people that we both taken a likin' to.. I trust that you'll know how to handle that. Built for it." With the pause that came after, Raylan studied Henry's face before continuing.

"But if this really is the last night we're alive and kickin'..." He felt like he was standing on a cliff's edge. But Doc had seemed.. more than amiable about sleeping with him in the most practical sense. It would be fine, right? Maybe. Maybe not. "Only thing I'd ask of you is to come up here and get comfortable. Relax. Lay with me for a little while, huh?"

Doc nods. It is a given that he will at the very least continue to look after everyone here as best he can, and he did not need to be asked to. He cannot make any promises for the entire town, but of course he will try, with their neighbours, and those at the Boarding House.

"Since you asked so nicely." Doc raises his hand and almost lowers it onto Raylan's knee. He changes his mind at the last minute and plops it on that sliver of space between them, creasing the sheets, so near yet so far, and ducks his head, obscuring half his smile in shadow.

"Who am I to refuse?" Leaning to one side, Doc pulls out his cigarettes and matches from his pockets, tossing them onto the bedside table. The bed groans and creaks as he leans forward and moves to stand a bit, shuffle closer towards Raylan. One leg swings onto the bed and then the other, stretched out down the length of the mattress.

His palms move from being firmly planted on either side of his butt to reach behind his neck, a fist in his shirt collar pulling it up and off his torso, tossing it aside onto the floor. A recently healed bullet wound beneath his right collarbone made by a gun that last rolled off the assembly line over a hundred years ago is made visible for a brief moment before he tugs his askew singlet down properly and runs a hand through his hair, keeping his hand on the back of his head as he lies down, looking up at Raylan. His other hand stays resting over his abdomen on top of his undershirt, as though it's guarding other secrets of dangerous past encounters.

"Suppose this was how you were planning on solving our shortage of beds?" Doc asks, mildly amused.

Raylan knew he would.

The almost touch, the tilt of Henry's face at it all made Raylan smile, not in total victory but something like it. Raylan stayed where he was, leaning back a fraction as though it made any kind of difference to Doc getting onto the bed over him. Shifting the bottle and setting it on the floor next to the side table, Raylan shifted himself a little to pull off the red and black checkered flannel shirt he was wearing over his henley shirt before pulling that off too. Once his watch was gone, he forgot about his belt and settled back into the position he'd taken before.

He'd seen the glimpse of the bullet wound and did wonder how many others Doc's normal waistcoated layers hid, something else to roll around in the back of his head. He looked over at the question, mirth playing along his lips. "Not directly, but it works, don't it?"

No, laying down was the right way to go and Raylan lifted himself to shift down and onto his elbows before dropping into the pillow with a sigh, head swimming not a little with the reorientation. The arm closet to Doc was laid out between them, his ringed off hand settling over his stomach in a similar move.

"Since Mathis decided that we need to wake up on a couch together, seems like she agrees about it bein' a solid idea." He let his head fall to the side, eyes opening back up to look at Henry as he smirked. "Just don't be stealin' all the covers or pushing me outta bed. Or let anyone think this place has any good ideas other than this one to share."

"I will try not to have a violent reaction when you start snoring," he jokes right back, glancing at Raylan out of the corner of his eye before deciding it might be too soon to be exchanging looks in the dark and letting his gaze drift back to the ceiling. It was getting too warm with the shirt on drinking all that moonshine in bed but now it's just right. Propping himself up on one elbow, Doc reaches down past a slightly bent knee to pull up a thin sheet. They'll need the blanket later but for now he tugs on the sheet and drapes it over Raylan just under the line of his folded arm, fingertips grazing over the sewn hem as it forms a fitting mould around Raylan's outline.

"You might need to hold my hand. I'm not drunk enough to not mind the dark." He actually chuckles at that. For all the things he takes for granted with his immortality, his own gaudy ring acting as a security blanket to assuage him of his mortal fears, he can't get over his claustrophobia. Just Ellie's mere suggestion at venturing into the crawlspace under the house next door and he is four feet tall again, alone in the dark, covering the scrape on his knee with a soil-scuffed hand lying in the dirt listening to his mother's laboured breaths waiting to die.

Their time together in Mathias, though made all the better for banding together, has only made the darkness more unsettling. Every little noise has him clenching his jaw and shifting his leg restlessly, thinking of climbing out of bed to check on the others, reaching for his knife or the table lamp or just anything that can be swung at the shadows.

"Let us not ask or encourage Mathias's other wild ideas. Much as I do love some of her charms she is a wily, cruel mistress." In the shell of some folkloric legend lies a sometimes fearful, often worrying traumatised mess of a broken man. What would the history books think?

"I don't snore," he protested with a laugh that knew better, lifting his head a little at the shifting and dropping it back down with another satisfied breath as the sheet was pulled up over him, heart skipping at the draw of Doc's finger. He hadn't been cold but even if he was, he was too drunk to notice. Not to drunk to notice it wasn't nothing. He knew it wasn't nothing and now, it was starting to chew at him like a needy little thing. There were no amount of moonshine excuses to change that.

At the comment, Raylan looked over Doc's way. The dark of a bedroom must be too similar to the dark of a well. It had more than enough air and space to avoid being a mine, but Raylan could make a jump to the faint idea of what that must be like. The impulse to reach over and do just that, swiftly tend to those concerns with a touch was just as swiftly stifled. What if he was wrong?

"She is," he agreed softly. Mathis was going to break them more; Raylan could sense that much, like a storm in the air. They were going to need each other.

What if he wasn't wrong? After a long moment of silence, Raylan studying the shadowed outline of Doc's features in the dark, he opted for a leap of verbal faith. "My hands right here, when you need it." It was held up between them, pulled out from under the sheet, though he couldn't say how much of it Doc could see. "Don't think I'd mind at all." He wouldn't mind a lotta things. More than he should probably not mind but Doc and Malcolm had been working on him for a while now. Too many jokes and innuendos and open comforting understanding arms.

But he couldn't rush this. He didn't know how or how he'd handle it afterwards if he did. They were slow moving men, in this department, that's all he knew.

Another quiet chuckle rumbles out from next to Raylan before he feels a warm palm rubbing over the back of his hand, pushing it back down onto the bed. He wouldn't claim to have just been joking, to dismiss how he feels and Raylan's response (or offer?) that way. But he would still pretend to be fine. Doc's casual, effortless flirting masks all manner of insecurities and while he seems comfortable enough lying there, there is still enough inhibition there to hold him back from venturing where he hasn't ventured in a hundred and thirty odd years. It has been a long time and while he has mellowed out considerably, he is wary of getting the kind of drunk he needs to be to just go for it. Used to be he would go for it in other ways, putting Kate through the kind of heated argumentative hell no woman should have to put up with. He doesn't trust himself to have outgrown that anger and violence enough to just drink his inhibitions away.

"You are one gullible man, Raylan Givens. Imagine if I had asked for a kiss goodnight." He drums his fingertips against Raylan's knuckles before pulling his hand back.

No matter how soft it was, it was still a gentle 'no'. It left him feeling foolish for having offered, though he couldn't say anything about it. Of course it was foolish. There was a passing thought that maybe he should have stayed downstairs but the desire to have anyone next to him for a little while was too much to let him regret it.

Raylan huffed a little sound. "Yeah. Guess I am. Imagine if you'd gotten it." Shifting, Raylan rolled over into a position that he was more comfortable in, back turned to Henry. "Kick me if I do start snorin' huh? Rather have a bruise than a black eye."

"Heh. Of course." A few long moments pass. Not long enough for Raylan to have fallen asleep. The bed creaks again and sheets crease as Doc turns to face Raylan's back. An uncharacteristically soft ghost of a brush of lips and the slight tickle of moustache tells Raylan he got his goodnight kiss on his shoulder.

A bold hand slides from Raylan's waist, callouses scratching along soft skin across until the weight of his arm sits comfortably on Raylan's side and a wayward, restless thumb strokes across that soft, sensitive spot above Raylan's naval. Doc - Henry - whoever it is pressed up against the Marshal feels warm, a few hard edges of torso and thighs melded against Raylan's back, protective without being possessive, gentle without being too intimate.

Raylab might not have needed that reassurance, but he got it anyway.

He felt the turn and assumed that Henry had shifted to follow suit but the sudden soft heat of half a breath to go with those ghosting lips and mustache had him turning his head a fraction with a faint inhale of unexpected attention. There was no doubting the thrill of it, even such a small gesture, but coupled with the bold touch and the tuck in of Doc's body against his, he didn't know what to think.

In the swill of shine, the only thing he could do was soak in this too, stomach fluttering once under the brushing of Henry's thumb before he settled his head back down on the pillow and tightened himself, pressing back faintly with his whole body before relaxing into the bed. Whatever faint slice to his pride that gentle 'no' had done, it was all forgiven.

He needed the reassurance. All that mattered was that neither of them were alone, right?

Edited 2021-01-25 02:01 (UTC)

Malcolm had gone downstairs looking for Doc. It was later than usual and he couldn’t sleep. The dressing wasn’t sticking properly to the wound on his finger anymore and he could at least deal with that.

Neal told him Doc had requested to use the master bedroom. Well, it was his night to mind Malcolm’s night terrors. It didn’t occur to Malcolm that he might want it for anything other than being nearby.

Until he opened the door, poking his head in in case Doc was asleep, but it was too dark to see at first. He moved into the room.

“Doc? Neal told me y...” His voice trailed off suddenly as his eyes adjusted enough to see the bed in the dim light filtering in from the hall as he got almost halfway towards it.

He felt his stomach sink as he was sure the colour drained from his face and he hoped it was too dark for them to see him, backlit by the hallway. He could still salvage his reaction if they hadn’t seen the look on his face. He could only soldier through on the assumption they hadn’t.

“Sorry. I didn’t... think. I should have knocked, I didn’t.... Neal said you asked for the room, I didn’t really think for... what.”

He felt foolish, largely. Foolish for believing a little affection could be more than it was. Of course he was with Doc. Malcolm had originally thought he was. It made sense. They were equal. They did the same work, keeping everyone safe.

He realized his eyes were lingering on Raylan and he let them fall away.

“Sorry. It’s... nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

Mostly he felt foolish because he’d known from the start that Raylan was well out of his league. Well out. But he’d let himself entertain... notions. He started backing up towards the door. “I’ll just. Talk to you at breakfast.”

Fortunately for the both of them there was no elbowing or kicking. The night rolls on by with minimal incident until the sound of Malcolm's strings of apologies start to pull him out of the depths of his sleep.

The obvious misunderstanding initially went over Doc's head. He was still half-asleep when he stirred, sitting up with his thumb pressed against the side of the bridge of his nose. He is still fully clothed. As is Raylan. The idiot's even still got his belt on.

"Malcolm," his voice low, commanding, breaking on slightly hoarse like dark chocolate and gravel even in his sleep-steeped state. A firm hand is steady on Raylan's upper arm. Protective, still, and reassuring. He's got this.

"You wouldn't have come if it was nothing," he points out quietly, futile as it is to not wake Raylan now. "Come here." He gestures with a lean to the side and a couple of curled fingers.

"Tell me what's wrong," asks Doc I don't have paternal instincts Holliday.

No, no avoiding waking Raylan, not when he woke with a start and a sharp, almost panicked breath at the sudden sounds, body half lifted as he tried to figure out what he was seeing. Malcolm. A spike of adrenaline shot into his veins, only partially calmed by the weight of Doc's reassuring hand but it was enough to let him drop back down into the bed before shifting onto his back as Malcolm was invited to come over.

He didn't want this to be a problem. It was too early for it to be a problem.

"S'fine," Raylan rumbled from his spot, to both Doc and Malcolm. He was awake and whatever Malcolm was apologizing for - something about the door? was fine. He breathed in and hoisted himself up onto his elbows.

"You okay?" Did they need to be at attention?

Malcolm halted his retreat at the way Doc said his name, approaching the bed hesitantly, looking at Raylan again as he rolled over, then making himself not. Was he okay? Well. He had to be. There was nothing in this room he had any claim to. He needed to stop being stupid. They wanted to know why he'd come. Why had he come? Oh, right.

He looked down at his hand.

"Um. I couldn't sleep and... this dressing is falling off. And I... didn't know if your first aid kits were still in your old room but I think Negan is asleep there but... I mean. Maybe it doesn't even need to be covered anymore." He was babbling. Shut up, Malcolm. He pressed his lips together. "It's not an emergency," he said apologetically, his eyes wandering to Raylan again before he turned them back to Doc.

"Come on. Have a seat." Doc pulls one leg back, bending it at the knee while the other hangs off the edge of the bed. Patting the still-warm space in front of him, he invites Malcolm to sit.

There were too many things to unpack in Malcolm's almost-blubbering so Doc is going to address them all separately.

"I can- mind the bottle at the foot of the bed - I can take a look at that." He reaches around to get the light. It's not the brightest light in the room but it would serve them just fine. "And then you can tell us what's keeping you awake. Are you worried about waking up somewhere else again?"

That's how they're going to chew through the elephant in the room. One bite at a time.

Raylan added his lazy hand, gesturing for Malcolm to come join them in case it was also needed, unable to help with anything with Malcolm so far away. No, he could guess what Malcolm was thinking. The way they were flirting earlier today, the kiss the day before, only to find him curled up in bed with Doc.

He didn't know how to help outside of some subtle reassurance that he hadn't figure out the steps to just yet.

Raylan groaned as the light switched back on, one forearm coming up to shield his eyes from the light, no matter it's brightness. With Malcolm on the bed, the Marshal opts to turn onto his side to face them, happy enough to stay laying down. Doc did say he had it, after all. Raylan would be.. backup support.

Edited 2021-01-25 03:44 (UTC)

Malcolm looked down to step around the bottle when warned, then perched on the edge of the bed, glancing over at Raylan as he held his hand out for Doc to inspect before turning his attention to the half-unstuck bandaging.

"Sometimes I just can't sleep. I just don't... usually disturb you when I'm not sleeping."

There was nothing in his head he wanted to see.

"My mind races. More than it used to, without the medicine I used to take. I can't turn it off."

Doc gently rips it off, leaving the used bandages in a small bundle on the floor next to the bottle. The skin has mostly fused back so it is looking okay, but he turns Malcolm's hand over and presses the tip of his thumb against the edge of the cut just to be sure.

"Well. This is a big bed, and you are not." Big, that is. "I do mean that in the nicest way." Doc is still just barely holding onto Malcolm's hand, trying to give it some stability amidst any intermittent tremors. "How about you lie down here. And just count while you breathe, same as you do in the morning. And we'll try and slow your mind down?"

Doc shuffles over a little to make some space for Malcolm, laying out the promise of warmth and security beneath his curled fingers. All at once he can't be the one who doesn't have his shit together - the window for that had come and gone - and Lord he is trying through sheer resolve and determination to be that steady, unwavering bedrock again.

"Raylan and I, we can handle wild horses. You wouldn't even hurt us if you tried."

Raylan hummed an agreement with Doc's invitation, lifting his top arm to gesture Malcolm in, just in case he needed it. The bed was warm and comfortable and Raylan would not object to having another body to curl up against, not tonight. Maybe it would smooth everything over and they could wake up tomorrow like this was all perfectly normal.

"He's right, we'll be fine, c'mon," Raylan added, hopefully not letting Malcolm go too far down the 'No but what if path'. "Even if you don't fall asleep, a little peace, hmm?"

Clearly, the cowboys were gently not going to accept a no.

Crawl in right there? He’s not sure there’s ever been a moment he wanted one thing more. Surely, he was interrupting something. Was it selfish to crawl in there without even offering an out? Were they just being polite?

He looked at Doc and then at Raylan uncertainly, his eyes lingering on Raylan a moment before fluttering back to Doc.

It didn’t... feel like it. His hand warm in Doc’s hand, there was none of the body language of annoyance he was quite used to seeing on people in many situations.

He let his hand, shaking only slightly at the moment, fall away from Doc’s grasp as he shifted to crawl into the centre of the bed, laying down there on his back, his shoulder to Raylan’s chest so there was space for Doc on the other side of him.

He shouldn’t allow himself to fall asleep, that he knew. He could hurt one of them. A little peace sounded good though. A little warmth. Or a lot of warmth. He let his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers fidgeting restlessly, and looked at Raylan, whose face was much, much closer now while he could feel Doc’s movements on his other side. He looked over there, taking a somewhat shaky deep breath through his nose as he remembered Doc’s suggestion, letting it slowly out through his mouth. One, two, three, four, five.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

OKAY MALCOLM, CMON IN

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject