[He lets himself be selfish, lets himself shift their hands so that he can thread their fingers together. When she touches his eye, though, there's a surge of intense panic, the flash of a scalpel and Stein's manic grin behind rounded spectacles, his own screaming muffled as he bit down onto his jacket, the smell of blood and the feel of rope binding him.
John's expression flattens as his free hand shoots up, trying to grab Mary's wrist and yank it away, hard. His other hand, twined with hers, tightens to a vice-like grip, trying to keep that hand down and out of the fray. His eyes open, and he stares at her with an unfocused gaze for several seconds, heart pounding.
John, let go of me. Mary's voice breaks through to an extent, and he blinks at the blue dot of light in front of him, realizing what he's just done.
He lets go again, this time taking a full two steps back. This is wrong. What the hell is he doing? He was about a step away from trying to break Mary's arm.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Not... please don't touch my eyes. God, Mary, I'm sorry. Did I...? I'm sorry.
[The doctor holds his hands up, expression breaking to something intensely apologetic. She hadn't known. How could she know? How could he know it would still feel as fresh as a couple of weeks ago when it's also been five years? How nice that old/current traumas linger in his bloody awful mess of a timeline.]
cw: PTSD/reference to eye injury/removal
John's expression flattens as his free hand shoots up, trying to grab Mary's wrist and yank it away, hard. His other hand, twined with hers, tightens to a vice-like grip, trying to keep that hand down and out of the fray. His eyes open, and he stares at her with an unfocused gaze for several seconds, heart pounding.
John, let go of me. Mary's voice breaks through to an extent, and he blinks at the blue dot of light in front of him, realizing what he's just done.
He lets go again, this time taking a full two steps back. This is wrong. What the hell is he doing? He was about a step away from trying to break Mary's arm.]
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Not... please don't touch my eyes. God, Mary, I'm sorry. Did I...? I'm sorry.
[The doctor holds his hands up, expression breaking to something intensely apologetic. She hadn't known. How could she know? How could he know it would still feel as fresh as a couple of weeks ago when it's also been five years? How nice that old/current traumas linger in his bloody awful mess of a timeline.]