The Morning After (RP for asthenoseonyourface)

[coatandscarf]

You should have some coffee. -JR

...John? How did you...? Nevermind. When you took my phone. Of course. I already had coffee. RH

One cup? Stingy. -JR

All I need is one, Holmes. RH

I like caffeine. -JR

When are you moving into the office? -JR

Well, I'm packing the things I need now, John, but someone keeps interrupting me. RH

Oh. Who? -JR

Go look in a mirror. Or at Jacob. It's close enough. RH

...Why? -JR

Because it's you who keeps interrupting! RH

Well I'm BORED. -JR

You're welcome to help me pack. RH

Really? Why? -JR

Because you're bored. RH

So? -JR

Just giving you something to do. You're welcome to say no. RH

I'm not saying no. -JR

But why are you helping me? -JR

There a reason I shouldn't? RH *attached is her address*

Comments

[asthenoseonyourface]

Roughly an hour later, there was a knock at the door...or, more specifically, there was a muted thud of one shoulder, followed by a hiss and a string of quiet, but very distinct cursing.

When Randy opened the door, she found John standing there with two cardboard trays. One held three cups of coffee and two large chocolate danishes. The other...held four cups of coffee, and was guilty of the cursing as the coffee had sloshed, dampening the tray and turning part of his hand angry pink.

"Nobody wants to help me." he informed her blandly.

[coatandscarf]

"Oh for the love of..." Randy reached out, taking one of the cardboard trays from him carefully. "John, no person can humanly drink this much coffee. I really hope you didn't bring this for just the two of us. And I couldn't help you because I'm helping you now, aren't I?" She motioned for him to enter, leading him into her studio apartment. Setting the coffee down on the bartop, she looked over the cups curiously, noticing they each had different letters on the side. She couldn't hide the soft smile that came up as she quickly realized why. Anyone else, she would almost see it as flirtatious. "You could have asked. Vanilla latte, two sugars. Although hazelnut certainly is a favorite as well." She motioned toward his hand. "Want me to take a look?"

[asthenoseonyourface]

"I mean with boredom." John replied, automatically handing her one of the cups when she rattled off her favorite. "Vanilla mocha latte, no sugars...should be sweet enough. Hand is a first degree burn, not even blistering, I'm fine. Answer my question."

[coatandscarf]

"I can add sugar." Although she took the cup from him, moving around the bartop to the kitchen. "And I'll determine that. Come here. I won't answer your question unless you let me take a look." Setting the coffee aside, she extended her hand for his, facing him, yet not quite able to meet his eyes. She had a near stranger, a self-confessed sociopath, in her apartment, and here she was bargaining with him to give him proper treatment. Somehow, she had a feeling this wasn't her wisest decision.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John narrowed his eyes at her crossly, but his obedience was immediate. She was not only making deals, but withholding that one precious commodity he couldn't live without: information. Data. The thing he needed more than air.

Moving to her side, he offered her his hand, visibly impatient but utterly passive, like a child who knew desert only came after he ate his vegetables.

"Why are you helping me?" he repeated.

[coatandscarf]

Randy quietly examined his hand, noting that the coffee must've not been steaming at the time. The burn wasn't that bad at all. She tugged him toward the sink, turning on the faucet and let the cold water run over his skin. She was careful not to stand between him and the counter, yet she didn't release his hand either, having a feeling he'd run off as soon as he was able.

She tugged a hair behind her ear, responding without actually looking at him. "You aren't the only person that gets bored. And I know that giving you a new place and person to analyze will distract you." A laugh escaped her, thinking of the original intent of inviting him over. "Plus, you might even help me pack."

[asthenoseonyourface]

"But I've already figured you out." John replied, going strangely quiet as he did, standing there, watching her run cold water over his hand, tucking hair behind her ear, and smiling without looking him in the eye...like everyone else, like she was afraid of being seen only she wasn't. Her respiration didn't change and her pulse was steady, barely a flicker in the hollow of her long, delicate throat.

He grew still, he grew quiet...because it was the first time he'd ever told a blatant lie.

[coatandscarf]

Randy looked up as he lapsed into silence, glancing sideways at him. "Somehow, Mr. Holmes, I'm betting on that being a lie. You wouldn't be here if you had. You wouldn't bother. I'd be one more thing you've solved," she informed him, looking him dead in the eyes as she spoke, willing herself to find the courage to do so. She hadn't stood this close to a man in... since... then. Her grip on his fingers tightened reflexively, but otherwise nothing else revealed her nerves.

[asthenoseonyourface]

The eyes she met were open and cool, detached from feeling...but that meant from aggression, from even passion. His gaze seemed to go through her, stealing every bit of data and piecing it together in his head...as if he couldn't truly take her in, visually, until he'd pieced together the rest.

It only made matters worse that she was right.

He understood what was happening, though, he'd read about it. He'd studied it. He'd seen it in his sister when she lit a Bunsen burner for the first time (terrified of fire) and when Jock learned to swim when he was fourteen (fell in the pool when he was three, terrified of water ever since). He knew this was important, he just wasn't sure how.

"I am bored." he pointed out practically. It was polite, not to point those things out...at least he thought so. Was this a time when he ought to, in a gesture of compassion? He was starting to wish Janie was there to help...

[coatandscarf]

To his credit, he didn't move either. He didn't move closer, nor did he move away. He just stared at her, his eyes remarkably emotionless as they seemed to bore into her. It was a little unnerving, but she didn't dare let her eyes turn away. To turn away then would be a sign of weakness.

Randy Hughes was many things: weak was not one of them.

"...You are. That's why you're here. If you had figured me out entirely, you wouldn't have come."

[asthenoseonyourface]

"Boredom can produce redundancies." he shot back quietly, still unmoving, unflinching...strangely nonthreatening. "Sometimes they have to be indulged. The alternative...really isn't worth talking about."

Because he'd already been informed by his brother and his sister, repeatedly, that hydrocodone in lieu of cases was completely unacceptable.

[coatandscarf]

"It could, but something tells me you don't do anything twice." Her hand shifted slightly then, and soon it came under the cold water, causing her to jump in surprise. Her gaze finally broke away from his, looking at their joined fingers. A wave of nerves ran through her, as she released her hold on him and darted her hand upward to close the tap. "I think you'll be okay, now. I'd like to wrap it, but you probably won't let me."

Turning her back to him, she reached up into the nearby cabinet to get the sugar, willing her hand not to tremble. Yet there was no such luck, her left hand shaking slightly, causing her to grip the ceramic tightly before setting it down on the tabletop. Opening the lid of the coffee, she dropped two of the cubes into it and drew back to open the drawer for a spoon. She visibly froze as her back pressed against him, her knuckles tightening on the drawer. She shut her eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a deep breath before being able to move again, reaching for the spoon and closing the drawer, stirring the sugar into the coffee. "...Sugar?" She asked finally, not quite able to get anything else out just then.

[asthenoseonyourface]

...she thought he cared.

It came to him in a blinding flash, making a connection that hadn't been there before, lifting the crushing weight of racing thoughts for an instant because he had a puzzle, and it was suitably distracting him.

She thought he cared, so she saw him as a threat. PTSD. Tremors and avoiding his gaze and he knew she had this happening but...he wasn't...a man. He was...John.

"No." he decided. "Exposure therapy." Without preamble, he lifted his scalded hand to her, the other reaching for the nearest cup of coffee he could grab that wasn't hers. "Wrap it."

[coatandscarf]

Randy's eyes widened, looking over her shoulder at the man. Exposure therapy? The man wanted... her to acclimate to touch again? He extended his hand to her, and she was stunned to hear him say 'wrap it'. Like it was that simple for her to just touch him.

She drew in a breath, steadying herself. "I, uh, need to get at the cabinet under the sink. For a first aid kit." He moved then, allowing her access. She quickly grabbed the kit and opened it, taking out a couple of items for a burn. "Come here." Once again, he was at her side and with a slight gulp, she took his hand. Yet once she began applying the cooling ointment over the skin, her trembles went away, her nervousness gone. The patient's wounds became more important than the patient himself at that point, and she was able to focus on it without issue. Taking the wrap, she began to wind it around his hand carefully, yet swiftly, showing some of her skill in her field of expertise.

[asthenoseonyourface]

He let her work in silence, intrigued as skill overtook instinct. Her shaking hands calmed, her breath quieted, and suddenly he saw the doctor in there...more details, things that weren't there before.

"You're good." he observed, cool and clinical and strangely still as she worked. A heartbeat later he added "You got it right, reopening your practice. Jock fell in the pool when he was three, took swimming lessons to overcome his fear of water."

[coatandscarf]

"I'm not scared of *everyone*, it just..." Randy let out a heavy sigh. "We were called in, the medical unit. Came in, got our guys, and were withdrawing. These guys hit our truck, or so I'm told. I, uh... well, we were all captured. Had a shrapnel cut into my arm. Injured my unlar nerve. It's why my hand shakes sometimes. It isn't all mental. But I was unconscious, and they took me away. Found out most of the others had been killed on the spot. They kept me for a few days, five according to my superiors. I wouldn't know, they kept me in a chest for most of it. When I wasn't in the chest..." She cleared her throat, her gaze falling, her jaw clenching. "I was released because I was a doctor. Not before they made sure I had something to remember them by, though." Her nervousness around men made it fairly obvious as to what that 'something' was.

She lapsed into silence for a few moments, finishing off the wrap, her hand patting his lightly to flatten the wrap over his skin. "I enjoy medical work, I like helping people. I just... don't trust myself completely to do the work right."

[asthenoseonyourface]

John nodded, almost to himself at the end of her story.

"That must have been traumatic, I'm sorry." He almost sounded like he meant it...almost. Janie would have said it, so John figured it was worth a shot. When he was done, however, he lifted his hand to make his point: her work was flawless.

"I'm gonna just assume they're dead, if that's all right." he suddenly declared out of nowhere. Because if they'd hurt her, and they weren't dead...well, he wasn't about to enlist, and traveling to that part of the world was expensive, and he really didn't know her well enough yet to kill a bunch of people for her.

Maybe in a week or two...that was sufficient, wasn't it? He'd have to ask Jock and Janie.

"So how do you do it? The thing." he finally asked, moving to get his coffee again and pick up a danish, offering it to her. "I wasn't as good before I finished college. I still miss things, now and again."

[coatandscarf]

Randy felt a scoff escape her at his statement, her eyes looking up and away as she blinked back tears. "Understatement."

He then floored her, the unshed tears obvious in her wide eyes. "...Sure, yeah. P-probably are, actually." They had gone into that cell not long thereafter, trying to recover the other people they had lost. It had been a partial success, from what she heard.

When he moved to get his coffee, she brought a hand up to rub the tears away. She looked up to see him offer her a danish and shook her head for it. Instead, she reached for her own coffee and took a drink from it. She remained silent at first, trying to think about what he was referring to. The thing... where he wasn't as good until he completed college. She sighed, shaking her head a bit. "Sorry, Holmes, I'm not following. Bit unsettled to follow your train of thought at the moment. What's 'the thing'?" She asked, moving to step out of the kitchen, limping her way towards the living room so she could grab a seat. She'd deal with putting things away later. Right now, she needed to settle down.

[asthenoseonyourface]

John followed her, taking a swig of coffee and wildly grateful she wasn't crying. Yes, there were tears, but she hadn't done that thing Janie did when she cried, where she folded up and clung to him and got his shirt all wet and shook and shook and sobbed and sobbed. That was crying, real crying, and he just...had no idea how to cope with crying women.

"Noticing things." John pressed, not bothering to take a seat. He stared down at her, open and curious and cold. "I've always seen, but I didn't know what I was seeing for years." He paused, growing very still again. "I've never known anyone else that saw the way I do."

[coatandscarf]

Randy motioned for him to sit, taking another sip from the coffee. Seeing things. That was 'the thing'. It was some time before she answered, composing herself with a few more drinks from the coffee. "Noticing things, hm? I've always been observant, especially when it came to people. Always got along well with folks. But I'm not like you are. I can't read things anywhere near as well. I'm more... clinical in my analysis. People are far easier for me to read than things are."

[asthenoseonyourface]

"But there's no difference." John insisted, pacing slowly, even leisurely, ignoring her invitation to sit. "People are things...muscle and bone and tissue, vessels for information. As a doctor, you should know that."

[coatandscarf]

"There's a lot more to people than just what they're physically comprised of, John. If I was just made up of my parts, then whatever I went through in Iraq wouldn't bother me at all," she pointed out, watching him pace over her cup of coffee.

[asthenoseonyourface]

"You were injured," he pointed out, "but that's not what I mean. Reading people, reading objects...excluding me, people are objects, but objects aren't people. If you can read my piano off my hands or Jock's law enforcement career off his posture, you can read a plant by the vase it's in or a DVD's ownership history based off its case."

He finally deigned to sit down across from her, still watching her intensely with cool blue eyes. "Excluding me, people are animals, their behavior is predictable."

Once again, he went still and silent. Another lie, at least as he saw it.

[coatandscarf]

Randy watched him for a few moments, mildly horrified at what the context of his words meant. He kept excluding himself from humanity, like he wasn't a part of the race at all. "I don't know that information, though. I'm not a botanist, I'm certainly not familiar with DVD's, or who might own them. I mean, I suppose some DVD's are easily categorized but that's not the point." She shook her head a bit, then sighed. "John, I don't know what to tell you. I'm good with people. You noted I seek the companionship of people. I don't... want to know things. I want to help. Knowing that a DVD belonged to someone... it's unimportant to me. However..." Her voice trailed off, and she visibly gulped. She willed herself to lean forward, her fingers moving to curl around his good hand lightly. She had a point to make, and she needed to touch him to make it. She just wondered if he understood how big a deal it was for her to do so. "...noticing that you feel you're an exception to the human race *is* important. Much more than any plant or DVD."

[asthenoseonyourface]

John was no stranger to human contact, his brother and sister touched him often. He even found it acceptable, to be Janie's human pillow during a movie or hug his brother, be hugged. Janie giggled when he hugged her and kisses on her head made her smile. Those were vitally important things to him, and not just because their behavior told him what he needed to know about social behavior. They were triplets, they were...linked.

But something about the way Randy held his hand was different in a manner he couldn't quite put his finger on. He looked to their joined hands, then up to her face, gaze cool and assessing...confused but not bewildered, focused in his need to understand.

"Why is it important?"